The Within Temptation Saga: Nightwish
by Draic Kin of the Balance
Summary: Sequel to Within Temptation. Mary Stuart and Francis Valois have it all: love, passion, intimacy, and a growing family. Just when it seems all of their troubles are behind them, secrets from Francis's past come back to haunt them and their world begins to crumble around them. Will the past destroy them? Or can Mary convince Francis that their life together is worth fighting for?
1. Dark Chest of Wonders

**The Within Temptation Saga: Nightwish**

By Draic Kin of the Balance

* * *

" _I wish I had an angel_

 _For one moment of love_

 _I wish I had your angel_

 _Your Virgin Mary undone_

 _I'm in love with my lust_

 _Burning angelwings to dust_

 _I wish I had your angel tonight_

 _Deep into a dying day_

 _I took a step outside an innocent heart_

 _Prepare to hate me fall when I may_

 _This night will hurt you like never before_

 _Old loves they die hard_

 _Old lies they die harder."_ ~Nightwish, _Wish I Had An Angel_

* * *

 **FRANCIS**

It is funny how quickly time passes. One minute, you are planning for someday and all of a sudden, someday is today. I always knew that things wouldn't be easy for me and Mary. The first few years after our marriage proved the most difficult, but in the end, it was our children—Anne, James, Catherine, and Aimeri—that blessed us as they were brought into the world. It's been five years since we were married, and I couldn't be happier than I am now.

These thoughts occupy my mind as I watch my wife and her ladies play with our children in the gardens of Versailles. Her eyes sparkle in her delight as she twirls our little Catherine; James and Anne chase after them gleefully as Lola cradles Aimeri, our nine month old infant son. It never ceases to amaze me how much Anne takes after her mother. She is just as strong-willed and stubborn as Mary, and she is a splitting image of her mother with her dark hair and chocolate brown eyes. James reminds me of both myself and of Bash when we were children; he is almost always causing mischief between himself and his sisters, always pulling pranks. Catherine is the complete opposite of her namesake; she is just as fun-loving as her siblings without a somber bone in her body. In truth, both she and James are the chief tricksters in the family.

Mary half-runs and half-skips over to me and I take her in my arms. She wraps her arms around me and kisses me deeply. I know that I could never be happier than I am when I hold her in my arms. I can feel the flames of desire flickering within her in her kiss. She looks over her shoulder at our children, concern marking her features.

"The children are going to be fine, Mary," I assure her. "Greer, Kenna, Lola, and Aylee will watch over them." She relaxes at my words before she kisses me again, with just as much fervor as the last, before taking me by the hand and leading me inside the palace. We steal kisses along the way, running in the halls like our children and the children we once were, before we make it to our bedroom. Mary tugs at my clothes insistently before helping me out of my shirt. Her hands run over my bare chest, her fingernails scraping my skin. I hiss in pain before I cover her mouth in mine. The years have done nothing to cool the fire of our passion. If anything, they have fanned the flames.

I spin her around so her back is pressed to me, giving me full access to her neck. Mary tilts her head back and moans as I begin to kiss and suck her pulse points, while I make quick work of her dress. She is naked before me and the sight alone makes me hard. "I love you, Mary," I whisper in her ear. Her breathing is uneven and her eyes are closed as she reaches behind herself, palming my cheek gently. Something inside her snaps, for she turns around and grabs my face, kissing me hard. I am thrilled by her impatience and her eagerness and I let her lead us to the bed. I push her onto the bed with my hips before I remove my jeans. I pause for a moment to let her drink in the sight of me, before I immediately crawl to her, hovering over her body.

"Francis…Francis, please," she begs. "I-I need you to—" My wife cuts herself off as she leans forward, kissing me desperately. We both move simultaneously, unable to take any more of the sensual torture of prolonging. I bury myself inside her until I reach the hilt, and Mary arches her breasts against my chest as our tongues clash against each other. I settle for pressing my full weight down upon her, relishing the feeling of her body beneath mine, skin to skin, cradling her head in my hand in spite of the pillows.

"Oh, Francis!" she sighs between kisses. "Francis!" I tear my lips away from our kiss in want of her neck, and she arches into me as she wraps her arms around my back. I pull away from her neck after a few moments, but she takes the opportunity to kiss me possessively. I can feel her urgency in her kiss, her silent request. _Let me lead._ Mary pushes herself upright, kissing me fiercely, and I resettle her in my lap. Her legs wrap themselves around my waist and our foreheads press together as we struggle to catch our breath. I circle an arm around her waist whilst stroking her face with my other hand. Her skin is soft and cool under my touch. I look into her eyes. She smiles breathlessly at me.

 **MARY**

Francis gently caresses my face, and my skin is set afire at his touch. Five years we've been married, and I am just as thrilled by his lovemaking and his touch as I was the night we made love for the first time. We've been blessed with four beautiful children. France is my home. I lean forward, grabbing my husband's face and kissing him passionately. All I can think of is him and how fortunate we are, with our children and our lives together. Anne, James, Catherine, and Aimeri – my little ones. My children.

After our second honeymoon to Paris, we were blessed when I'd discovered that I was again pregnant with James. Thankfully, unlike his eldest sister, he was not born premature and he turned out just as happy and healthy. Raising both Anne and her brother proved a challenge, but it was one that both Francis and I loved. I fell pregnant again with Catherine the following year; she proved just as stubborn as her namesake. Her birth was the hardest, and not because there were complications. Just like Catherine de Medici, she didn't go out without a fight. When we finally were able to hold her in our arms, we knew all the pain was worth knowing that she was well. We lived together with our three children, growing in love and as parents, and I became pregnant again with Aimeri two years later. The birth of our second son was a challenge for multiple reasons. The doctors had said that the pregnancy was dangerous, that there was a chance neither I nor our baby would survive when the time came. I prepared myself for the worst, tying up all loose ends, saying my goodbyes, and even preparing my will because I was convinced that I would die and our child would survive. It took me months to make Francis stand down and let me carry Aimeri to full term; the time leading up to that point was filled with emotion. Francis didn't want me to keep Aimeri if it meant losing me and it almost destroyed our marriage.

The night I went into labor, I'd been ready to die for our son – and I almost _did_ die. After several agonizing hours, I'd finally pushed him out of my womb but I suffered from massive, almost fatal bleeding. It was a miracle that the doctors had managed to stop the hemorrhage, but to me, all that mattered was the life of my son. I recovered quickly – and our son Aimeri was born happy and healthy. After his birth, our doctor advised us to avoid pregnancy for at least another year or so in order for my body to recover. We've been happy together, raising our children and falling in love more and more each day.

This sudden flash of memories overwhelms me and I have to blink back tears. Francis pushes me flat on my back, caging me with his body as his kisses become slow and lazy, a sensual exploration. His mouth moves from my lips to the curve of my neck. He kisses and bites my flesh, eliciting small gasps from me. I wrap my legs around his waist as his strokes become bolder and more brutal, each thrust bringing me closer and closer to the edge. We come together as one, screaming our release and unravelling in each other's arms.

I lie in his arms, the silken sheets entwined about us, gently stroking a pattern into his chest. My head rests on his shoulder. Francis's arms are wrapped protectively and lovingly around me, holding me close. "What are you thinking about?" he asks. His voice is quiet, barely above a whisper.

"Us," I murmur, "and our family, and how lucky we are….how much I love you and our children. Can you believe it's been five years?" Five years. Half a decade together.

"Yes, yes I can," my husband says. He kisses my hair before he tucks a strand behind my ear. He sucks on the spot just below my ear before moving to my neck. I rub our noses together playfully and Francis's lips are on mine. I receive his kiss and open my mouth under his, allowing his tongue to make bold strokes. My husband maneuvers so that my back presses into the mattress, and we make love again.

* * *

 **FRANCIS**

" _Mama, Papa!"_ The quiet is shattered by the familiar cries of James, Catherine, and Anne as they run into the room. Lola walks in, holding a sleeping Aimeri in her arms. Mary raises herself upright and wraps the sheet around her breasts, blinking the sleep out of her eyes.

"I'm sorry for the interruption," says Lola. "They were getting rascally and decided to play tag. I didn't think that they would barge in."

"It's fine, Lola," I assure her. She approaches the bed and settles Aimeri in my arms. I rock him in my arms, cooing at him. A few moments pass and he awakens. Mary moves closer to me just as Anne, James, and Catherine climb upon the bed. The children pounce upon me and the room fills with the sound of laughter. My wife lifts James into her arms and brings him close before she begins to tickle him. He squeals with laughter, and I am overrun by Anne and Catherine. I'm suddenly grateful for the sheet covering my lower body, given the timing of the children's ambush. In between our children and their tackling, I manage to steal a few kisses from my wife. We stay in bed with the children, laughing and playing together until we're crying with laughter and the children fall asleep.

I gently disengage myself from Anne and James and climb out of bed, redressing myself. I feel my wife's eyes on my back as I don my clothes. Mary sprawls out on the bed; the very sight of my naked wife sends all the blood rushing to my groin. "I think the children have exhausted themselves," I remark. Mary chuckles, and I erase the distance between us, sitting on the bed. I cup the back of her neck and kiss her fully. She kisses me back and we break the kiss, breathless.

"We should probably tuck them in," she suggests.

"Not like that you aren't," I chide her teasingly. I rake my eyes up and down her body suggestively, and she blushes. "I wore you out, Mary. You're exhausted. Sleep, my love." I cup the back of her neck and kiss her forehead. "I'll take care of the children." Mary lays back on the bed and curls o her side. Her breathing slows and I gently wake up each of our children. I take them to their respective bedrooms and tuck them in, one by one. I can't help but smile as I close the door to James' room. My wife and my children – the greatest loves of my life.

"Your Majesty?" I jump, and turn around to see none other than my page. "You have a visitor."

"Who is it?" I ask. The only people who would visit me would be Charles, my seventeen year-old younger brother, and Elisabeth, our eldest sister. I haven't heard from either of them in years. "Did they give you a name?"

"Serena." _Serena._ I haven't heard that name in years, since I left the Citadel. Those days are long behind me. My life is with my wife and my children now. A surge of hatred courses through me. I don't know what the Citadel wants with me, but all I know is that I want no part of it.

Serena is indeed where I expect her to be. Her back is to me as she admires the thrones. Her golden hair falls down her back and I can make out a gun in one holster attached to her jeans and a dagger in the other. She must sense that I'm here, for she turns around. Her azure eyes flash with recognition, malice and awe in equal measures. I don't make a single move to approach her and she smiles coyly, her stiletto heels clicking loudly against the marble floor.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I hiss.

"What? No kiss?" she sneers, feigning a pout. "That's a shame. We used to have so much fun together, don't you remember? But of course, that was before you fucked it all up and the Listener died because of your mistake. You ran fucking back home with your tail between your legs, and for what reason? Family business? The rise to the Valois throne and billions of dollars? Five years ago you wouldn't put one motherfucker over us."

"You didn't answer my question, Serena. What. The hell. Are. You. Doing. Here?" I growl. She giggles playfully and hatred and fury surge through me.

"Ooooh, I like it rough," Serena purrs. "Don't you remember? You would tie me up and fuck me senseless. Nobody in their right mind would forget that kind of mind-blowing sex. Because I sure haven't. I miss the good ole days. You, me, and the Citadel—and when the lights went out…" She reaches for my face, but I grab her wrist hard enough not to hurt her, but to make myself firm. She jerks herself out of my grip and her hand flits towards her gun.

"You want to know why I'm here, Francis?" she demands. Her voice falls quiet and her eyes soften. "I came back for you because I love you."

"Bull-fucking-shit. You are the same, manipulative psychotic bitch you were when I left the Citadel," I say lowly. I meet her cold stare. "Get the hell out of France and out of my life, Serena. That is an _orde_ r as your sovereign king."

She slithers past me, but not before whispering in my ear, "Oh, Francis. We're going to have so much fun together."


	2. Your Only Truth

**MARY**

Light spills into the room as I open my eyes. I reach for my husband, only to feel emptiness where he is supposed to be. The door opens and Francis makes his way over to me. I smile at him as I climb out of bed. The children are asleep in their rooms after a long day of play, I know. I dress myself as my husband closes the distance between us. Just as I'm done dressing, Francis takes me in his arms. His arms envelop around me as he holds me close, breathing me in. I return his embrace, resting my head on his shoulder. I can sense his exhaustion…as well as something else that I'm unable to place.

"Are you okay?" I murmur.

"I'm fine," he says before withdrawing from me. Francis smiles softly at me; a hand curls around my face, and I lean into his touch. "I was just thinking about how much I love my wife." He kisses me softly, slowly, lazily. I kiss him back and he strokes my cheek with his thumb. A silence dawns between us, and for a long while, neither of us says anything. "Mary, I need to tell you something." My concern immediately spikes at his words.

"What is it?" I ask. "What's wrong?" My husband takes me by the hand and sits down on the couch. I take a seat next to him, listening intently. "Francis, what is it?"

"You're going to have to trust me on this," he says. "If you ever meet someone here by the name of Serena, don't trust her. She's dangerous and so is the organization she works for." I stare at him, baffled. Where is all of this coming from? I love and trust my husband entirely, but already, none of this is making sense.

"Who is Serena?" I ask.

"Your worst nightmare. Our worst nightmare," Francis answers. "Keep the children away from her. I wouldn't be telling you this if it wasn't serious." Sensing my hesitation, he grabs my hands. "Mary, do you trust me?"

"Of course I trust you, Francis," I tell him, meaning it. "I just don't understand." What isn't he telling me and why? It isn't like my husband to be so secretive; we are very open with each other in our marriage. There are no secrets between us.

"It's for your safety and our children," is all he says. I'm tempted to press him more about Serena and what she's involved in, but I trust that my husband will tell me everything in his own time. He slants his mouth over mine, and I reciprocate his kiss without hesitation. My hands come around his face and he weaves his fingers through my hair. "I _love_ you, Mary," he says quietly.

"I love you too," I whisper.

* * *

 **MARY**

"Mama, Mama!" Catherine squeals. "Look! Look at da pwetty fwower I found!" Our youngest daughter bounds over us a rose from the gardens in her hand. My husband beams as he watches, his arms full with Anne, James, and Aimeri. Anne and her brother clamor for his attention, and he speaks softly to them. I don't know what he says, but it sends them running over to us.

"What a pwetty fwower!" Anne exclaims. "What kwind of fwower is it, Mommy?"

"It's a red rose," I tell her, kneeling down to her level. "And yes, Cat, it _is_ pretty. Just like you and your sister." My daughter's faces are mirrors of excitement in equal measure. Catherine leans over and whispers something in Anne's ear, and the two run off, chasing after James. Their laughter warms my heart and I walk over to my husband and our infant son. I can't help but admire my husband as he cradles Aimeri. It's rare to find him at peace; it is usually with me or with the children that I get to see him like this, unburdened by the crown. To the court, he is nothing else but their king. He is not their lover, their husband, or the father of their children. He is mine.

"He never cries," says Francis. "He's always so quiet and peaceful." Aimeri giggles as he plays with his father's fingers. I sit down next to him, resting my head on his shoulder. There, I am lulled to sleep as he sings to our son.

* * *

 **FRANCIS**

My wife and I settle down the children just in time for dinner. Mary sits them down properly at the table while I give James his dose of bottled milk.

"Should I go on and put him in his cot?" I ask Mary. "He seems to have worn himself out."

"Go ahead, Francis," she tells me. "I'll get dinner prepared for us." I cradle our youngest son in our arms as I take him to the nursery. For just a moment, I am able to pretend that the Citadel has no hold over my life…but I know that this is mere delusion. As long as Serena is here, my family is in danger. I want to tell my wife the truth, but I refuse to involve her in the Citadel's affairs. I can't. I won't. I won't do anything that might put her life at risk – or the lives of our children. They can't be involved in this.

I stop dead in my tracks when I see Serena standing in the nursery. I hold my son closer to me, as if to shield him from her eyes. My blood runs hot with anger and adrenaline. "Why are you here?" I hiss.

"You know I've always loved children, Francis," she says coyly. She strides over to me, toying with her dagger. "The youth is the key to the future. You proved as much when you joined the Citadel. It's what drew me to you in the first place."

"The fuck do you want?" I demand. She giggles childishly as she tips the point of the knife towards Aimeri; I instinctively cover him in my arms.

"You owe the Citadel a fucking debt, Francis," she says sweetly. "I thought you knew this already. Lucien…do you remember Lucien? He was Astrid's second-in-command and her lover. Astrid wanted you to find the traitor in our brotherhood, but you fucked up and accused Lucien. We were forced to kill him and it wasn't until after his death that we realized he was innocent. You know better than anyone what we do, Francis. We let you join us because we saw true potential in you. It's such a shame how much you've disappointed."

"What kind of a debt?" I press hotly.

"In blood or in money," Serena says sharply. "We've kept our eye on you over the years, and we have several potential candidates that we could kill if you don't pay up. Your lovely wife, the queen…your children, even that precious little baby you have there. Your brother and your sister might be out of the country, but that doesn't mean that they're out of our reach. Give us cash or you will bathe in blood. It's your choice."

"How much cash do you even want?"

"900 grand. Pay up – or people will start dying." Serena stalks out of the room and once I lay Aimeri down in his cot, a cold fear slithers into me.

 **MARY**

When my husband returns, I can sense that something is deeply wrong. He says and does nothing – he doesn't kiss me in greeting or glance in my direction. Anne, James, and Catherine bicker at the table over what TV show to watch before they have to go to bed as they eat their dinner. I rise from the table and approach Francis, taking him by the hand and pulling him aside, out of earshot of our children.

"Is something going on that I should know about?" I ask. "You've been acting strange since this afternoon."

"It's something you needn't concern yourself with," he says crisply. "I'm handling it." It takes all of my self-control not to screech with frustration at his vagueness. The last time he kept a secret from me was after he murdered his father. He did it to protect me from Narcisse's threats and in the end, it had almost gotten him killed. Rarely have we kept secrets from one another since then.

"Handling what?" I hiss. "Francis, you need to trust me!"

"I do trust you!" my husband insists. I'm no longer able to look him in the eye and he cups my face in his hands, making me look at him. "Mary, you have to understand. I'm not keeping things from you because I don't trust you. It's for your own protection. It's for the best, Mary."

"Don't you think I should be the judge of what's best for me?" I snap. "Francis, it's not just me anymore. It's Anne and James and Catherine and Aimeri! It's our children, too!"

"I owe Serena and her organization a debt," he blurts out. "I was a member before you came back to court."

"Was? Why the past tense?"

"I got their second in command killed while I was on a job," Francis explains. "I was convinced he was guilty of treachery, but he was innocent. Now, I owe them 900 grand in cash."

" _900 grand_?" I nearly shriek. "Francis, we can't afford to give them that kind of money! We're practically drowning in debt helping Elizabeth replenish her own resources!" After peace was formed between Scotland and England, our countries entered a golden age. Since then, France has been helping England restock their assets after the initial conflict between our countries. We've been deep in debt ever since, but we've been gradually paying it off.

"Mary, she threatened you. She threatened our children," says Francis lowly. "I don't have a choice."

"You aren't going to give her what she wants, are you? _Are_ you?"

"I can't even if I wanted to. The best thing we can do for now is take the children away, get them away from court until this all blows over. I won't let anything happen to them."

"What about Aimeri?" I ask. "Francis, he's just a baby. Please…not Aimeri. Not him." I need to be here to protect him from this Serena; I trust that James, Anne, and Catherine will be alright but Aimeri is our youngest. I can't bring myself to part with him. "Francis, please…he needs his mother. I need to protect him myself."

"Keep Serena away from him," my husband warns me. I don't know what to say, so I nod silently. I'm not aware of the tears that have streaked down my face until Francis gently takes my face in his hands and wipes my tears away with his thumb. He brushes his lips against my forehead and he faintly whispers, "I promise, Mary, I will make this right." I look up at him as I gently cup the back of his neck and place my hand on his heart. I brush my lips against his softly, but it isn't long until the embers of passion flicker and ignite into a wildfire. Francis wraps his arm around my waist and I wrap my arms around him, fisting a hand in his hair. I gasp as he lifts me in his arms and places me on the island counter. One swift glance at the children shows me that they are so utterly immersed in their bickering that they don't notice us, and I can't help but be thankful for that. Francis buries his face in my neck, sucking and biting on the soft flesh. My legs come around his waist as he pushes my black leather jacket off my shoulders. I roll my shoulders back and let my jacket fall to the floor.

"This is so dirty of us," I gasp. "The children…"

"Don't scream and they won't suspect a thing," Francis says huskily. I thread my fingers through his golden locks as he presses hot openmouthed kisses along my neck. The spaghetti straps of my shirt fall down my shoulders and my husband pulls my cardigan down, offering him my breasts. Francis runs his mouth down the valley of my breasts and I begin to roll my hips forward against him. He growls his approval before he grasps at my cardigan, pulling it over my head and discarding it carelessly to the floor. I arch myself against him, craving more contact with him.

"Take me to bed," I moan. I slide off the counter, my heart racing in anticipation in my chest. I take Francis's hand and take him to our bedroom. The moment the door closes, Francis is on me. His mouth is on mine, his powerful hands roaming my body. I make quick work of his shirt, practically tearing it off his body. My nails rake his chest in my passion, but Francis doesn't seem to mind. I cross my arms and pull my shirt over my head, tossing it to the floor and exposing my breasts. My husband's mouth moves from my lip to my neck and shoulders and to my breasts before he sinks onto his knees, pulling my jeans down to the floor. He briefly pulls away so I can step out of them and kick them away before he takes my panties between his teeth, slowly tugging the thin material down my legs. Francis tosses them away and rises back up so he can look into my eyes.

I launch myself at him, throwing my arms around him as our lips crash together, but he pushes me back upon the bed. He hastily removes his jeans before he crawls on top of me, entrapping me with his body. Our tongues clash together in an erotic, passionate and sensual duel for a control neither of us are willing to give up. I cup my husband's face in my hands, arching myself against him. He buries his face in the curve of my neck, biting me hard enough that I cry out…but I don't mind the pain. _Pain and pleasure are two sides of the same coin._ My legs wrap around his waist and I moan in pleasure.

"Francis, Francis!" I cry. My husband pulls out to the tip before plunging back inside me, harder than before. He does this again and again and again, and I cry out again as he brushes against that sweet spot that always gets me off. I grind my hips against him as his powerful thrusts threaten to send me over the edge. I kiss him insistently, maneuvering so I roll atop of him. I gently caress his face, kissing him deeply and passionately. Francis presses a hand into the small of my back as I slowly roll my hips against him. I gradually pick up the pace and my husband bucks his hips against me. Our kisses become harder and more demanding, and I ride him harder and harder. I tear my mouth away from his and push myself upright, my nails raking his bare chest. I sway my hips, slowly at first, but I increase my tempo gradually. I twine our fingers together as I ride him, not once taking my eyes off him. Our eyes lock together and I place my husband's hands upon my hips. It feels unbelievable good to have him under me…inside me. I throw my head back and moan in ecstasy. Francis slides a hand up to a breast, his stare filled with awe and lust. He plays and fondles with my breast until it aches, but I don't stop riding him. I ride him without abandon and Francis sits up suddenly, his arms wrapping around my waist. The world turns on its axis as he flips me over onto my back and he takes me hard, nearly leaving bruises on my neck and inner thighs as we move together in an animalistic haze.

"Harder, harder, _harder_!" I beg through gritted teeth. Francis explodes into me with a growl and I arch my back into him, screaming aloud as a violent orgasm washes over me and my husband joins me as he yells my name. The embers of fire in my belly are an untamed blaze. I dig the soles of my bare feet into the back of his thighs, cupping his face in my hands and kissing him hotly. He tears his mouth away from mine – I whimper at the loss of contact – in want of my neck. I arch my back, melting into him, shuddering in pleasure. My husband's mouth moves from my neck down to my breasts; I fight to keep my eyes open to watch him, but they fall closed and my mouth falls open in a wordless moan as my orgasm washes over me. He kisses my lower belly, rubbing his nose tauntingly into my flesh. Francis grips my inner thigh, gently kissing me there. I arch my back, throwing an arm over my head, as he plunges his tongue into my heat. My husband strokes my sweetest spots with his tongue, driving me higher and higher. I shake uncontrollably, overcome by the sinfully sweet sensations brought about by his mouth. Francis explores me slowly before he licks my slit. I whimper as I writhe beneath his mouth. It is then that he changes his pace. My husband moans into my core before he kisses my folds.

"Oh god…oh god, Francis!" I moan. He delves his tongue in and out of me, winding me up so impossibly tight that I feel I'm going to explode with the need for release. Every so often, he swirls his tongue around my swollen bundle of nerves and my hips jerk off the bed of their own accord. His fingertips dig into me, and I'm forced to be still. I cup his face and guide him back to me, before I kiss him passionately. I push myself upright, repositioning myself so I'm in his lap, keeping our lips fused together. I gasp as this new angle brings my husband deeper inside me, and he buries his face in my neck. I wrap my arms around him and hide my face in his shoulder, muffling my cries. I shatter into pieces only moments later, coming apart in Francis's arms.

 **FRANCIS**

I make love to Mary until she collapses in my arms, our bodies and hair slick with sweat. She nestles close to me, our limbs entwined together under the silken sheets, and she traces a pattern into my chest with her fingers that only she can see.

"No matter what happens, I love you," I tell her quietly. I can feel it, and a part of me knows she can feel it too: the calm before the storm. Serena's presence at court is only the beginning.

"I love you too," my wife whispers. She kisses me gently, stroking my cheek with her thumb. We lie together in silence for several long moments before she props herself up on one elbow, gazing at me intently. "Francis, who exactly is Serena? You never told me who she is – or what organization she works for."

"Are you sure you want to know?" I ask her. She nods. "I was…involved with her a few years back, when I was with her organization before you came back to court."

"…Involved?" Her brows furrow and her eyes flash with jealousy.

"It was a purely sexual relationship. No strings attached," I continue.

"So, she was your fuckbuddy?" Mary asks, her tone clipping. I don't flinch at her anger, nor do I blame her. She shakes her head. "Why did you break things off? What the hell happened before I got here?" Her voice has lost its initial hostility, but there is still underlying resentment in her when she speaks.

"I eventually realized that I was in over my head with my involvement with them," I explain. "I thought they were fighting for a good cause, but they were using me to advance their own personal interests."

"Is that why you left?"

"Partially," I answer. "I caused the death of their second in command while out on a job. After that and realizing who they really were, I left."

"And now you owe them a debt," Mary finishes. "Who are these people, Francis? Why did you get involved with them in the first place?"

"It doesn't matter," I tell her. "What matters is protecting our family."

"…You aren't going to give them what they want, are you?" she asks me.

I don't answer.


	3. Good Journey, Love, Time to Go

**MARY**

I can feel Francis pulling away from me more and more, and the trepidation I've been feeling has become impossible to ignore. In spite of his opening up to me a few nights ago, I know that he hasn't fully told me everything. Something is about to happen, and we both know it. I can only hope that it won't be too late for the both of us.

I find my husband by the lakeside, deep in thought. I approach him and take his hand in mine, our fingers weaving together. "I'm getting worried, Francis," I tell him. "I'm worried about you and our family's safety."

"You won't have to worry anymore, Mary," he tells me. He turns to me and gives me an envelope. I stare at him, confused. "In there is 450 grand. Half of what I owe Serena."

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" I ask.

"Mary, there's nothing else I can do," Francis insists. "She threatened our family, our children." He shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair in frustration. "She's not going to stop until she gets what she wants and I won't be able to rest, knowing that you're in danger and that our children are in danger." He holds my face in his hands, meeting my eyes intently. "I love you and I'll do anything to protect you." I nod wordlessly, a sudden lump forming in my throat. He kisses my forehead before he walks away from me. All I can do is watch and hope. I give a shake of my head and head back into the palace, where the children await me. Aimeri is asleep in his cot, while his brothers and sisters are eager for what the day might bring them.

"Mama, Mama!" Anne exclaims. She runs into my arms and I embrace her, before embracing and greeting her siblings. "Where is Papa?"

"Papa has some errands to run, my love," I tell her. "He'll be back in time for dinner and your usual game of catch." James tugs at my jeans and I turn to him.

"Why is Papa always so busy all the time?" he asks.

"Your father is the king of France, James," I remind him gently, but firmly. "One day, you will sit upon the throne of France and rule in his place. You're the dauphin, remember?" My son nods and I kiss his forehead. "Don't worry. He'll work with you on your reading tonight as well. I'll be sure to remind him." I take him and Anne by the hands and lead them to their rooms, Catherine excitedly following us. I stop dead in my tracks, immediately shoving the children behind me as if to shield them with my body.

"You must be Mary," she says coolly. "I've heard a lot about you. I'm Serena."

"What the hell do you want?" I demand.

"Mama!" Catherine whines. "I want to meet her!" Serena smiles coyly and my blood runs cold. She kneels down so she is level with my children.

"I love children, Mary," she tells me. "Don't you? So innocent and pure and naïve, blind to the cruel reality of the world." She chuckles darkly. "The purity of children…it's a shame when it's gone."

"What are you trying to get at?" I snap.

"You can't protect your children forever," she says coldly. "If it weren't for your husband's station as king, who is to say that the Citadel won't target him next for their next assassination? Oh, Francis didn't tell you? We're an elite group of assassins, hackers, and thieves. I kill for a living. It's in my blood. Your husband was too soft, and, well…the rest is history."

"Francis would never—"

"Don't be so stupid," Serena hisses. "But, again, who really knows Francis de Valois? Husband. Lover. Brother. Friend. King." Her fingernail drifts near an artery on my throat as she circles me, and I shiver. The very air about her is deadly; I know that she would not hesitate to slit my throat, given the chance. This woman is not to be trifled with. "This isn't about Francis, Mary. It is about a debt that must be repaid in full. And believe me, it _will_ be repaid."

* * *

 **FRANCIS**

I know Serena is in the room before I even step foot inside. Her cold, but seductive voice passes through the walls as I approach and I can feel my wife's fear and hostility coming off her in waves. I step through the door and her eyes meet mine. Serena turns around to face me as Mary escorts the children outside. Her eyes don't meet mine once.

"I have the money you wanted," I tell Serena, giving her the envelope. "I'll give you the other four hundred and fifty grand; I just need more time." She stares at me dubiously before she takes the packet, rummaging through its contents.

"Four hundred and fifty grand exactly," she says, looking up at me. "That is half of what I expected from you. What Astrid expected from you. Do you really want the brotherhood coming after you for the rest of your life, Francis? That can be easily arranged."

"Stay away from my family," I growl. "I'm not going to tell you again." Serena narrows her eyes at me and reaches for her gun. "I can call for your execution and you would die tonight, if I ordered it."

"I'll take your money," she says icily. "Don't ever think to fucking cross me or the Citadel again." Without another word, she stalks out of the room. I watch her until the door closes, before I burst into a sprint after my wife. Her hostility towards me can only make me think she knows the truth of the Citadel…or Serena has finally poisoned her against me. One thing I know for certain: I can't let her leave me without telling her the entire truth. Had I known my involvement with the Citadel would come back to haunt me and my family…

I find Mary in our chambers, her arms crossed as she stares into the fireplace. I step towards her, and she turns around to face me. "Mary, please…let me explain. I don't know what she told you—"

"She told me enough, Francis," she says calmly, with barely suppressed anger. "I-I don't know what to think. What were you doing working with a group of cutthroats?"

"I was young and stupid, Mary," I begin, closing the distance between us. "Mary, Serena inserted herself into my life and told me that the Citadel and all they did was for a good cause…and I believed them. She used me and manipulated me and I didn't realize it until it was too late." She shakes her head in disbelief and I gently hold her face between my palms, making her look at me. "I love you, Mary. You may hate me now, but I will do everything in my power to protect you and our family."

"I don't hate you, Francis," my wife confesses. "I don't think I could ever hate you. I can't believe it's come to this. The Citadel…god, Francis, why couldn't you tell me yourself?"

"I didn't want you to think less of me," I tell her sincerely. "I hate myself for everything that I did when I was with the Citadel. I helped kill people to further Astrid's agendas – people who were innocent. No, I never killed anyone when I was with them. They thought my talents were better used for gaining information that couldn't be obtained by normal means."

"You were a hacker."

"Mary, I am not that person anymore. The Citadel is no longer a part of my life. _You_ are my life and I love you. _I love you_." My wife's eyes pierce mine and she launches herself at me, grabbing my face and kissing me passionately. I reciprocate her kiss, pushing my tongue into her mouth as she tugs insistently on my shirt. I make swift work of her clothes and she kicks off her boots before tugging off her socks. I am on her in and instant, crushing our mouths together and pressing her body against mine. The feeling of her bare body sends the blood rushing to my groin. I pull my shirt up and over my head, tossing it to the floor. I remove my socks and shoes, letting my wife drink in the sight of me. We come together instantaneously, our lips coming together furiously. I gently lay my wife down on her back on the silken sheets and I crawl atop of her, stroking her cheek. She caresses my face with her fingertips and for several long moments, we don't say anything.

 _Yes?_ A silent question. Mary kisses me passionately in answer, her legs wrapping around me. I am thrilled at her eagerness as I return her kiss with equal fervor. I kiss a trail down her neck, slowly travelling down her body. She arches her back and her breasts graze my chest. Every time we make love, our passion is raw and unyielding. This time is no different. I kiss every patch of skin I can find, not daring to leave any part of her unravished. I lift my head up to look at her; my wife's eyes are closed, her mouth dropping open in a quiet moan. I slide my tongue into her heat, my fingernails digging into her thighs as to keep her still. Mary writhes beneath me, running a hand through her hair as I tongue her. I slowly coax her close to her orgasm before bringing her back down again. I do this over and over again, wanting to drive her crazy with need.

"Francis…oh god, _oh!"_ she moans. "Oh god, Francis, please…let me come." I raise my head up from between her legs and take a moment to look at her. Mary. My wife. My queen. The mother of my children. We've been married for five years and she is so beautiful. It is in moments like these that she is truly beautiful – body and soul bared to me. Just her.

"Don't fucking look at me like that," she says heatedly, but her voice is weak. I know she is still angry with me for keeping secrets from her and letting my past come back to haunt our present and future, but after all we've been through, it is our love and our love for our children that has kept us together. My tongue lashes about her inner walls and I kiss her folds, barely grazing them with my teeth. I slide my tongue against her slit, tauntingly rubbing my nose against her sensitive bundle of nerves. Mary comes with a scream, arching her back with a hand in my hair and her arm thrown over her head. Her cry echoes off the walls and she cups my face in her hands, dragging me towards her for a kiss. I oblige eagerly, shoving my tongue into her mouth. Our tongues clash against one another as Mary swiftly maneuvers so my back presses into the mattress. She mounts me, not daring to break our kiss. My hands are in her hair and she holds my face in her hands as we move together. My wife rocks her hips against me insistently. I lower a hand to her ass as she rides me fiercely.

I can't live without her. All these years of marriage together and my love for her has only grown stronger. It seems only yesterday we had just met again, engaged to one another and both wanting different things. I will do everything and anything in my power to protect her and our children. I murdered my own father to protect Mary and our unborn daughter at the time, Anne. I would do it again if I had to. If anything were to happen to them, I would never forgive myself. This realization makes me jolt upright; Mary resettles herself in my lap, kissing me insistently. She gasps as I slide deeper inside her, throwing her head back and moaning. I press my lips into her neck, thrusting into her vigorously. My wife gasps in time with my punctuated movements before pulling away from me. I run my hands through her hair before kissing her deeply, our tongues twining against each other in an erotic dance.

"I love you, Mary," I rasp. "I would do anything for you." She caresses my cheeks with her fingertips, her brown eyes piercing mine. Several long moments pass in silence and she presses our foreheads together before pressing her mouth hungrily against mine. I receive her kiss eagerly. My hands move from her hair and wrap around her waist, drawing her closer to me if possible.

"I love you too," she whispers, and her mouth is on mine once again. She links her arms around me, pressing her body against mine and crushing her breasts against me. I push her on her back, settling myself between her thighs. Three hard, brutal strokes and Mary arches into me, her fingernails digging into my back as she screams her release. I climax with her, screaming her name. My wife buries her face in my shoulder, the soles of her bare feet digging into my thighs. She kisses my shoulder and my neck, before cupping my face in her hands and kissing me hard. Her fingers entangle in my hair and I tear my mouth away from hers in want of her neck.

" _Francis_ ," she breathes. I suck on the side of her neck, determined to mark her. My wife arches her back, melting into my skin. She urges me lower and I oblige willingly, kissing and biting her where I may. Mary writhes beneath me, but I dig my fingertips into her thighs, forcing her to remain still. I rub my nose into her stomach in a taunting motion before returning my attention to her clit. I run my tongue from the opening of her entrance down to her slit, reveling in the way she unravels before me. She screams as her orgasm washes over her, but I do not relent in my sensual assault. I worship her with my mouth, ruthlessly sucking and licking her clit. My wife arches into me as her climax overwhelms her. She cries out before grabbing my face and pulling me to her, kissing me passionately. She pushes herself upright, repositioning herself so she straddles my lap, and she wraps her legs around me. Desperate for more contact, I kiss her hard. She leans into the kiss, sensually rolling her hips against me. Chuckling, I pull away from her. I stroke her cheek with my thumb, staring into her eyes. My wife's eyes are dark with sexual desire. Wordlessly, I push her onto her back and make love to her until we fall asleep in each other's arms.

* * *

 **MARY**

Upon awakening, I find that my body is sore from my husband's lovemaking. I gently disentangle myself from his arms and climb out of bed. Francis sleeps peacefully, and for a moment, I envy him. I'm still worried about Serena and the Citadel. Even if she did accept the money Francis gave her, I can't believe for one second that she would merely leave us alone. I've known my husband for five years, and yet, as much as I love him, I can't help but feel that there is so much more he hasn't told me.

I shake my head, banishing these thoughts from my head. I can't afford to think this way. Not now. What matters is protecting our family, our _children._ I dress myself before heading to the nursery. The palace is eerily quiet and it unsettles me. _Dammit, Mary._ A pit forms itself in my stomach and I know already that something is deeply and terribly wrong. I break into a sprint and when I get to the nursery, I scream.

* * *

 **FRANCIS**

A scream pierces the dead quiet of the night. I jerk upright in bed, startled, looking about wildly. Mary's side of the bed is empty; only an impression of her is in her place. Something's wrong. I hurriedly climb out of bed and get dressed, before breaking into a run. My mind races with possibilities each of them worse than the last. Mary being hurt, Serena hurting – _killing_ – our children….

Mary is in the nursery on her knees, sobbing uncontrollably. I rush over to my wife, my fear and concern spiking. "What is it? What the hell happened?" I demand. She looks up at me, her face streaked with tears, and in that moment, I know what's happened.

"Aimeri is dead," she whispers. "Our son is dead." Aimeri? Dead? No, it can't be. Our boy, our youngest boy…he can't be dead! This isn't happening. It can't be. "It had to be Elizabeth, Francis. It had to, but why? What does she have to gain from breaking the truce between our countries? I don't understand!" Tears burn in my eyes and streak down my cheeks against my bidding. I shake my head furiously, unable to believe it. Mary rises to her feet and runs out of the room, weeping. Through blurred vision, I watch her go.

My knees suddenly give out from under me and I shatter completely as the truth sinks in. My son is dead because of me. Serena killed Aimeri because of me. Everything in me knows I should tell Mary this, but I know that she will hate me. I can't bring myself to tell her the truth. Not now. I break down sobbing and I can't seem to stop. Mary screams again, and the sound echoes throughout the palace. I rise to my feet and run to the throne room, where I find my wife tearing down the peace banners. Her screams break off into broken sobs. I rush over to her and hold her in my arms.

"No! No!" she shrieks. "Let me go!" I tighten my grip on her as she beats her fists against my chest, murmuring words of comfort through my own tears.

"Mary, Mary, it's okay. It's going to be okay!" I sob.

" _Our son is dead, Francis_!" she screams. "I can't, okay? I can't, I can't, I _can't!"_ She falls to her knees and I follow suit, refusing to let her go. Her screams break off into broken sobs as she cries into my shoulder.

"It's all my fault, Mary. It's all my fault." And I will never forgive myself.


	4. Old Loves, They Die Hard

**MARY**

This can't be happening. Aimeri isn't dead. It can't be. Francis holds me in his arms as I weep on the floor of the throne room, murmuring words of comfort in my ear. I can feel him shaking with sobs as he winds a hand through the hair on the back of my head, trying to soothe me.

"It's all my fault, Mary," he weeps. "It's all my fault." I gently pull away from my husband, taken aback by his words.

"Francis, don't…don't talk like that. It's not your fault that our son is gone," I whisper. I reach up and gently stroke his face, wiping away some of his tears with my thumb. "Elizabeth killed Aimeri. I don't understand why she would do such a thing, especially now after all this time, but…it's not your fault, Francis."

"Yes. Yes, it is, Mary," my husband chokes out. I stare at him, confusion ebbing its way through my suffocating grief. "Aimeri is dead because of me. It wasn't Elizabeth who killed our son. It was Serena and the Citadel. Mary, I'm sorry. I am so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen." I rise to my feet and, without another word, I storm out of the throne room. My husband follows me, calling after me. I ignore him, my vision blinded by tears. My emotions are a tempest from which there is no safe haven.

"Mary! Mary, please!" he shouts. "Please, wait!" I whirl around to face him, blinded by tears.

" _You brought this violence into our home, Francis!"_ I scream. " _Don't you get it? Aimeri is dead because of you! Our son is dead because of you and your mistakes!"_ My words break off on a sob.

"You don't think I know that?" my husband retorts. "I will never forgive myself for this!" He closes the distance between us and cups my face between his hands. "Mary, I will make this right. I have to."

"How can you possibly make this right?" I ask brokenly. "How?" I pull away from him and when we get our chambers, I snap. Something possesses me as I grab a vase and throw it at him. Francis narrowly dodges the blow and the vase shatters into a billion pieces upon impact as it hits the door instead.

" _What the fuck, Mary_?"

" _GET OUT!"_ I screech. " _I CAN'T EVEN LOOK AT YOU RIGHT NOW! GET THE FUCK OUT!"_ I slam my palms into his chest. " _GET. OUT!"_ Francis's face is streaked with tears as he looks at me one last time. He leaves without another word and closes the door behind him. I succumb to my grief, sinking to the floor and curling up into a ball and I weep.

 **FRANCIS**

I stand outside the door, too stunned to move or even speak. I can hear my wife sobbing from the other side of the door and it kills me, knowing that I am the cause of her pain and there is nothing I can do or say to comfort her. I force myself to walk away, pressing a hand to my mouth to stifle the sobs that threaten to escape my chest. I don't know where I'm going or what to do. Because of the Citadel – because of my mistakes – I'm losing everything. My son is dead. My wife blames me for his death. A ragged sob breaks through my chest…and another one, and another. I sink to the floor, burying my face in my hands, as I cry. Mary is right. There is nothing I could possibly do to make things right. The damage has already been done. I don't know how long I cry, but when I look up, I see Anne making her way over to me.

"Papa, why are you crying?" she asks. "I heard Mama scream. I'm scared." I don't know what to tell my daughter. What can I say? I open my mouth to speak, but a sob comes out instead. I don't want my daughter to see me like this. I don't want anyone to see me like this. "Is Mama dead?"

"No, no, no," I reassure her through my tears. "Anne, Mama is okay. Mama and Papa are sad because…because—" I force my voice to be steady when I speak, although everything in me wants to break down. "Aimi…he's gone away for a while. Your baby brother has gone away for a while, and we…we miss him." I am unable to fight the sobs that continue to wrack my body and Anne comes over to me. She wraps her small arms around my neck and I return her embrace as I begin to sob. For several long moments, we just hold each other.

"You and Mama will be happy again," my daughter says before pulling away from me. "Come on, Papa! Come play with me and James and Cat!" I wipe my tears and chuckle tearfully. "Please, Papa? Please?"

"Soon," I promise her. "Soon, my love." I kiss her hair. "Run along, Anne." I offer her a watery smile before ruffling her hair. "Papa needs to talk to Mama." My daughter nods enthusiastically before leaping off. I rise shakily to my feet and knock cautiously on Mary's door. "Mary? Mary, please…talk to me."

Silence. Several long moments drag on before the door finally opens and Mary stands before me. "Mary…"

"What do you want?" she asks tiredly.

"What do want me to do, Mary?" I counter, entering the room. My wife closes the door behind us and turns to face me. "What can I do to fix this?"

"There's nothing you can do," she says. "I'm packing my belongings, Francis. I need to get as far away from here as possible." Her suitcase is already filled with her possessions.

"Away from here or…away from me?"

"Francis, our son is dead. And every time I look at you, all I see is his face," she whispers brokenly. "You remind me of him so much. I-I need to get out of here. It's too much. This is too fucking much." A stray tear slips down her cheek. "I don't know when I'll be back. I just…I need to go."

"You're just going to walk away?" My voice breaks. "Mary—"

"You never gave us a chance, Francis!" my wife screams. "You took the situation into your own hands and our son is dead because of you! Our baby boy is dead!"

" _You don't think I know that_?" I retort. "Mary—"

"It's over, Francis!" Mary shouts. "It's over! Done! We're finished!" A heavy silence falls between us. The only sounds filling the room are the crackling of the fireplace and our breathing. My wife stares at me and our eyes lock together. I close the distance between us and hungrily press my mouth to hers.

 **MARY**

Francis's mouth is on mine and I am unable to fight the cosmic pull between us. Our tongues clash together and our hands are in each other's hair. I don't remember when or how we make it to the bed, our clothes and shoes and socks strewn all about the room. My husband is atop of me, caging me beneath him. In an instant, he presses his mouth hungrily against mine. I reciprocate his kiss eagerly, cupping his face between my palms. I arch myself into him, moaning his name between hot and furious kisses. My husband slowly pulls away from my neck and I kiss him again. I entangle my fingers in his hair and deepen our kiss, shoving my tongue against his.

"Francis," I moan. "Please…Francis." The first thrust of his hips sends me gasping from the direct pressure on my clit. I dig my fingernails into his back, biting down on his shoulder to keep from screaming. "Francis!" I cry. My husband silences me by crushing my lips to his and I cup his face between my palms, stroking his cheeks with my fingertips. I bite down on his bottom lip and tug hard. Francis growls in response. He nips at the corner of my mouth and leaves a blazing trail of embers down my neck. A storm of pleasure crashes over me in waves and I let out a scream, arching my back. My cry echoes off the walls, resonating throughout the room. Francis doesn't stop. Slowly, he kisses his way down my body. His mouth finds my breasts and he sucks eagerly; I moan, running my hands through his soft golden tresses.

"You're so…so beautiful," my husband rasps. "Mary…" His hand finds my clit and he begins to move his hand slowly over my mound, opening the folds of my wet pussy and exposing me completely to him. I shudder in pleasure and I arch my back, throwing an arm over my head. Francis takes one finger and runs it against my slit, gradually journeying downward.

"Please, Francis…" He inserts his finger inside me and presses the palm of his hand against my clit. I gasp, writhing against him. "Francis!"

"Do you want me to fuck you, Mary?" Francis asks me. "Do you want me to fuck you until you scream my name?"

"Please…please," I moan. "Francis, I need you inside me. Fuck me…make love to me, please…" I am completely and utterly at his mercy and there is nothing I wouldn't want him to do to me. My husband's tongue finds my clit and he laps eagerly at me. His eyes are focused on me, gazing intently into my eyes. I struggle to keep my eyes open, the pleasure is so overwhelming, and I lay my head back down on the pillow, giving myself up to the sensations. Francis's sensual exploration of my body sends adrenaline pumping through my veins. He lifts his head up at look at me, his hand rubbing circles on my clit.

"How does this feel?"

"So…so good," I whisper. "You feel so… _oh_!" A scream of pleasure bubbles from my throat and his mouth is on my clit once again. I run my fingers through his hair and it isn't until moments later that another wave of ecstasy comes over me. "Watch me come," I moan. Francis's tongue against my most intimate of places has caused me to see stars. He inserts two fingers inside me, all while insistently sucking and licking my clit.

"Oh, fuck! Francis, oh my god!" I cry. My toes curl into the mattress and my fingers brush the headboard of our bed, my back bowing off the bed. "Fuck!" Francis's hand travels upward in a parallel motion, finding a breast and circling my nipple with his thumb. I writhe and moan beneath him and he presses a hand into the flat plane of my stomach, pinning me to the mattress and forcing me to be still. My orgasm rolls over me in powerful waves, each one more powerful than the last. I ride out the waves of ecstasy, writhing and fucking myself against my husband's mouth, until he softly kisses my clit and breaking away so he can reach me. I cup his face between my hands and kiss him eagerly, moving my fingers into his hair. His kiss is soft, passion bubbling just beneath the surface. I propel myself upright and reposition myself so I'm straddling my husband, my legs curled around his waist.

"I love you, Mary," Francis murmurs.

"Shhh, don't say anything," I whisper. I kiss him again, looping my arms about his neck and drawing us closer together, if at all possible. I don't want to think about our son's death or my absolute fury towards my husband or how much, in spite of everything that has happened, I still love him. It's too much. Too much at once. If I start thinking about it, I know I'll start crying and I don't know if I could stop. I sprinkle kisses on his shoulder blade and the curve of his neck, my hands fisting in his hair for leverage. My husband growls his approval and I pull away from him, stroking his cheeks with my fingertips. Our eyes meet—and for the longest time, we don't say anything. Francis runs his hands through my dark tresses, his eyes filled with pain and love and longing all at once…and it breaks my heart to see it.

I close my eyes and press my forehead to his. Francis doesn't say anything; instead, he kisses me. Tenderly at first, but it isn't long before passion wins over. I receive his kiss eagerly, moaning his name as his tongue penetrates my lips. Francis breaks away from our kiss and his lips move to my neck, just below my ear. My husband grabs a handful of my hair and tugs gently, granting more access to my throat. I cry out in surprise as he sucks at the hollow of my throat, his lips slowly traveling downward. My husband's mouth finds a breast and he sucks eagerly, his tongue swirls and flicks around my nipple. I cradle his head to my breast, arching myself into his mouth. I moan as he ravishes my breasts with his mouth, before journeying his way upward back to me. I entangle my fingers in his hair and kiss him desperately, rolling my hips. I lift up slowly, grinding back down and moaning as waves of ecstasy wash over me like the tide, pushing and pulling.

Francis responds to my movements with movements of his own, and I wrap my arms around his neck, burying my face in his shoulder. I gasp in time to his harsh, punishing thrusts. "Oh my god…oh, Francis," I rasp. Pressure builds within me, and I know that I'm mere moments away from the sinfully sweet release I've been waiting for. "Francis, I… _oh!"_ I scream in ecstasy; I am scarcely aware of what is happening as Francis pushes me onto my back, stealing my cries in a searing kiss. I guide his lips to my neck, letting him leave soft, sucking kisses on my flesh. I dig my fingers into his shoulders, arching my back as a wordless cry is torn from my throat. Francis kisses me deeply and, in one swift motion, I roll atop of him. My hair falls in a curtain around us and I briefly break away from our kiss to tuck my hair behind my ears. I frame his face between my hands before kissing him softly.

"Mary…you're going to fucking ruin me," my husband groans. He takes my mouth in a hot kiss, winding a hand through my hair. I bite down on his bottom lip and tug aggressively. A hand ghosts down my back and my husband's fingertips dig into the globe of my ass.

"Oh, _fuck_ ," I rasp. "Francis!" I kiss him again, moaning wordlessly into his mouth. His hands are entangled in my hair and he rolls me beneath him, crushing my breasts against his chest. I trail kisses along his jaw, making sure to leave him marked in love bites. There is no telling where I end and he begins. Our hips rock together against each other in a sensual, erotic rhythm. Francis presses his lips in my neck, still maintaining his brutal thrusts inside me, and I moan. I take his face between my hands and kiss him deeply and he swiftly maneuvers me so I'm lying with my back pressed into the mattress.

"Mary," Francis whispers. I arch into my husband with a whimper, my nails raking his chest. I guide his lips to mine, losing myself in his possession.

 **FRANCIS**

After making love, Mary pulls herself out of my arms and shifts to the other side of the bed. Her skin, like mine, is slick with sweat and her dark tresses are damp as well. She rests on her stomach, propping herself up on her elbows. I look at her, waiting for her to break the silence between us.

"Your kisses are more attainable than your words," I tell her. "What are you thinking about, Mary?"

"Is this what we're going to be now?" my wife asks quietly.

"I don't know," I answer. "Is this what you want?" _You said that our marriage was over, and yet you made love to me afterwards._ Mary is silent and she tears her gaze away from me.

"We've both been so selfish because of the love we bear for one another," she says. "I've had to bend my morals and go against everything I believe in time and time again because I love you….and I can't do that anymore."

"Do what?" I ask, unable to keep the bitterness and pain out of my voice.

"I can't stop loving you," my wife confesses. She reaches over to me, palming my cheek in her hand and stroking my cheek with her thumb. "This was a mistake, Francis." Mary pulls away and shakes her head. "I'm sorry, I-I should go." She swings her feet over the side of the bed and makes to rise. I can't let her go. I don't want to.

"Mary, wait!" I protest.

"What is it, Francis?" She turns, looking at me over her shoulder. Her eyes are soft, but filled with pain. I rise from the bed and approach her, cupping her face between my palms.

"I love you, Mary," I tell her. "I love you…and that's why I have to let you go."

"Francis…"

"No, Mary. Let me finish. I know that you blame me for our son's death," I continue. "I don't think I will ever forgive myself for what happened to him…but if you want to leave me, I won't stand in your way."

My wife wraps her arms around me and presses her forehead against mine. Wordlessly, she brushes her lips against mine. I reciprocate her kiss with fervor, my hands moving from around her waist and into her hair. "Francis," she moans against my lips. I lift her in my arms, her legs wrapping around my waist, and I carry her back to bed, where I make love to her once more.


	5. My Love in the Dark Heart of the Night

**FRANCIS**

Mary and I rest in each other's arms, our naked bodies entangled together beneath the silken sheets. My wife rests her head on my shoulder as she strokes a pattern into my chest with her fingers. She raises herself upon an elbow, gazing at me intently. I absentmindedly run a hand through her dark, damp tresses and she leans into my touch, humming in content. She takes my fingers and kisses them one by one. I run a hand through her hair and guide her lips to mine.

"Francis," she whispers. She breaks our kiss, stroking my cheeks with her fingertips. "How long are we going to keep doing this?"

"Doing what?" I ask my wife.

"It's been days, Francis," she says. "We've already laid our son to rest. We can't keep doing this anymore. To ourselves and to the children. Anne and James and Catherine have been asking me questions I don't know how to answer…they've been asking about their brother and why they haven't been allowed to see him." Her soulful eyes are pained as she speaks; her voice breaks when she mentions Aimeri. Unshed tears brim in her eyes, and I hate myself for the fact that I am the reason for her pain.

"Mary, we can't protect them from the truth forever," I tell her. "I know how much it hurts, Mary. Believe me, I do."

"Do you?" my wife asks testily. I don't rise to her bait; she still grieves for our son, as I do. "Our children are asking questions…and I hear the people talking. About us…and our family."

"What do you mean?" I ask her.

"I know that Elizabeth agreed to the peace treaty between our countries and that the Bourbons are both dead," she explains. "The Citadel already attacked our family once. If they see that they've divided us…"

"You think they might attack again." It isn't a question. I know all too well the risk of another possible attack. Serena killed my son to make a point. "I promise you, Mary, I won't let that happen."

"I think I know of a way to put on a show for France," says Mary. "And if the Citadel even so much as sets a foot on our land, I will crush them."

* * *

 **MARY**

"Mama, why are you and Papa all dressed up?" Catherine asks me. I turn around to face my youngest daughter as I don my earrings. "Is there going to be a magical ball, like in the stories?" I chuckle and kneel down to her level.

"I don't think there are going to be any glass slippers or pumpkin carriages, darling," I tell her, "but it most certainly will be a magical night. You, James, and your sister will have fun."

"What about Aimi?" she whines. "Why can't we see him?" Tears shine in her eyes. "Mama, it's not fair!"

"I know it isn't fair," I whisper, "but…he's in a better place." Tears of my own burn in my eyes and I blink rapidly to keep them from falling. I don't want my daughter to see me cry. I need to be strong for her and for James and for Catherine. "It's going to be okay, my little Cat. I promise." I look up just in time to see Francis enter the room, holding James and Anne's hands. I rise, but not before kissing my daughter's brow.

"You look beautiful," my husband tells me sincerely. I look down at my feet, fidgeting with my golden necklace. "Mary…"

"Thank you, Francis," I say quickly, looking back up at him. I offer him a smile. I sink back down so I'm level with the children before I speak again. "James, Cat, Anne…I realize that this is a big night for the three of you. Tonight is your very first ball, and your father and I expect you to be on your best behavior. I want you three to have fun and enjoy the festivities."

"But Mommy, I _hate_ dancing!" James complains. "I hate having to talk with the other grownups! And Anne and Kitty Cat can dance way better than me!"

"James, son," Francis interjects gently but firmly. "Your mother and I both had to do this when we were your age. You're going to be okay. Just behave, don't get into too much trouble with your sisters." He chuckles. "Run along. Your mother and I will join the party soon." We watch as the children eagerly dart from the room. Faintly, the music from the ballroom can be heard.

"Mary," Francis says softly.

"Francis, please. Don't say anything," I say. "I just want to pretend that everything is okay. Just for one night, I want to be happy with the children and pretend that everything isn't falling apart, okay?" Tears, to my horror, burn in my eyes and my voice breaks. Francis takes a few steps towards me, but I shake my head vehemently. "No, Francis! I just…I need time, okay? I'll do tonight with you and help make it look like we're united, but I need time and space."

"I'll give you whatever time you need, my love," my husband murmurs. He takes another step forward, his eyes locking with mine as he gauges my reaction. I don't make any move to stop him. "There are no words for how sorry I am. For everything."

"I know," I whisper.

* * *

 **MARY**

The ballroom is filled with mingling guests by the time we arrive. Hand-in-hand, my husband and I make our way down the stairs. A hush falls over the crowd as the large doors close behind us; after a few brief moments of silence, everyone bursts into applause. Francis and I make our descent and my husband leads me to the center of the room. He spins me around and I suddenly find myself in his arms, our lips inches away from meeting.

"Francis," I say breathlessly. Our eyes lock and all I can think about is his lips on mine and his arms around me, flesh to flesh… _Dammit, Mary!_ I shake myself out of my reverie as Francis allows me to pull away from him. Everyone's eyes are on us and I can't help but feel scrutinized by them. _There's no doubt they've heard about Aimeri's death._ If anything is certain, my marriage to my husband is the talk of the court.

"Thank you, all, for coming here tonight," my husband begins. "I realize that you all have questions regarding recent events, but I assure you, France prospers. Tonight, my wife and I wanted us all to gather to celebrate five years of France's Golden Age. To peace and to prosperity!" The people burst into applause, and the orchestra begins to play. Francis looks at me pointedly and I offer him my hand. He takes it and he kisses my fingers tenderly, before he kisses my wedding ring.

"Can I have this dance?" he asks. In response, I close the distance between us and kiss him passionately, wrapping my arms about his neck. The people cheer and clap for us, but I scarcely hear them. Francis kisses me back feverishly, his hands moving into my hair. Several long moments pass until we finally break apart, breathless.

"What was that for?" Francis asks quietly.

"It was for them," I say curtly. "Excuse me, Francis." I shake my head, ignoring my husband's dumbfounded stare, and walk away. I grab a glass of champagne on the way, downing it heartily. _Why the hell did you just kiss him?_ I chide myself. _Things are over between the two of you. They ended the moment he told you the truth behind Aimeri's death._ I spare a quick glance over my shoulder; Francis's eyes are still on me, filled with equal amounts of concern and confusion. For a moment, I think I see a flash of determination in them – but I don't know for certain.

 _Don't be so quick to judge Francis and his feelings for you. You've been married five years. There's nothing he wouldn't do for you…and there's nothing you wouldn't do for him either._ The thought alone breaks my heart. I hate him for the violence he's brought into our home, but some irrational part of me still loves him.

"Mary, what is going on?" Francis demands. He takes me by the arm and pulls me aside, out of view from our guests. "Why are you acting like this?"

"Maybe it's because everything's been shot to hell ever since Serena came here," I suggest icily. I force myself to meet his eyes. "I know I told you I could do tonight, Francis, but I don't think I can anymore." I soften my voice as I speak. "Francis, I don't know what I want anymore…and to be frank, I don't think you know what you want, either."

"Mary, I know what I want," my husband counters. "I think you know what you want too." Chills run up and down my spine at his words and how well he reads me. There is no denying the fire between us. The moment I returned to court all those years ago, the pull between us was cosmic. Nothing about that has changed. Without another word, I take Francis by the hand and lead him to our chambers. I lock the door behind us before sauntering over to my husband. I cup his face between my palms and kiss him madly, kicking off my heels.

"Take off your clothes," I rasp between kisses, tugging insistently on his suit. We hurriedly shed one another's clothes in a passionate frenzy, Francis shoving his tongue into my mouth and his hands tangling themselves in my hair. My husband lifts me into his arms, setting me on my back against the silken sheets of our bed.

"Mary," Francis whispers. He kisses me hotly, pressing his weight upon his elbows as he tenderly cups my face between his palms. I arch myself against him in pleasure, moaning his name into his lips. My hands knot themselves in his soft, golden curls as I guide his lips to my neck. Francis obliges, kissing and nipping at the spot below my ear. A soft moan slips past my lips as I arch into his touch, my breasts scraping against his chest.

"Oh my god…Francis!" I cry. "Fuck!" He kisses a trail down my body, starting at my sweet spot below my ear and making his way down my throat. My husband's mouth closes over a nipple, while his other hand fondles my other breast. I writhe in pleasure beneath him, my sex wet and throbbing. Francis's mouth glides down my body as he sucks and kisses my flesh. He captures my flesh between his teeth and lightly sucks against it.

"You're so beautiful, Mary," he tells me. "I plan on worshipping you in every way possible." I moan quietly as my husband slowly slithers his way down my body, leaving lazy and hot openmouthed kisses on each patch of skin he passes. I try to sit upright, but Francis grabs my wrists and pins me to the mattress. I meet his gaze defiantly. "Stay still, Mary," he says lowly. He kisses his way down my body, tantalizingly slower than before and it drives me crazy with desire. By the time he reaches my pussy, I'm begging him to fuck me.

"F-Francis, please," I rasp. "Please…I need you inside me. Oh, god…"

"Actually, it's Francis," my husband says. Not daring to take his eyes off me, he spreads my legs apart and lowers his head down between my legs to my core. His tongue lashes out against my pussy and I gasp, running a hand through my hair as I struggle to keep breathing. Francis's tongue delves into my heat and swirls around my clit. My back bows off the bed, my toes curling into the mattress from my husband's ministrations. I lift my head off the pillow to meet his lustful, loving gaze. I run a hand through his soft curls, smoothing his hair with my foot, before falling back down again.

"Oh, Francis!" I cry. " _Fuck!"_ He captures my soft flesh between his teeth and sucks against it, and I arch in pleasure. "Francis!" The feeling of his mouth in my most intimate of places is one I'll never tire of. He drags his tongue slowly along my clit and I arch my hips upward, desperate for more. My husband tongues me passionately, pushing me to my limits. My clit and pussy throb under his touch and I orgasm violently, screaming in ecstasy. Francis pulls his mouth away and kisses me deeply. I wrap my arms around him and push myself upright, positioning myself so I'm in his lap in a seated position, straddling his thighs. His hands snake into my hair, his tongue pushing past my lips. I raise myself up onto my haunches, moaning as he buries his face in my breasts. His tongue flicks against a nipple, before his mouth encloses my breast. I throw my head back and roll my hips against him, building a sensual rhythm between our bodies. I cup his face between my hands, desperately crushing my lips to his. I curl an arm around him, melding our slick bodies together.

Francis pulls away and breaks our kiss, gasping. My husband frames my face between his palms, meeting my eyes intently. "Mary," he whispers. "I love you." I lean my forehead against his as words elude me. I can't bring myself to say the words back to him. I slant my mouth against his and the angle of the world suddenly changes as my husband sits up and circles his arms around my waist before flipping me over so I'm lying on my back. He kisses my fiercely before burying his face in my neck, thrusting into me in hard, brutal strokes. I wrap my arms around his back, my hands moving into his hair as I meet each of his thrusts with my own movements.

"Francis! Francis!" I gasp. "Oh my god!" I crush my mouth to his and roll atop of him, holding his face between my palms. Francis returns my kisses with fervor before he begins to plant peppered kisses along my jawline. A wordless moan slips past my lips. I catch my husband's mouth in another passionate kiss. A hand ghosts down my bare back and to my ass while another pushes itself through my hair. I ride my husband fiercely. I break away from our kiss so I'm sitting upright, straddling him. I scratch at his chest for balance, before I roll my hips against him.

"Mary…oh god, Mary!" Francis cries. He bucks his hips against mine and I throw my head back, screaming in ecstasy. My husband sits upright and kisses me hotly, maneuvering so I'm lying on my back again. I wrap my legs around his back, returning his kisses eagerly. Francis presses his lips to my neck and I let out a moan of pleasure, letting myself surrender to his possession.

 **FRANCIS**

After making love, my wife and I rest in each other's arms. I tenderly stroke her bare back, my fingertips gliding across her flesh. Mary hums in contentment as she rests her head on my shoulder and strokes my chest with her fingertips. Several moments pass in silence until my wife raises herself up onto her elbow, her soulful brown eyes meeting mine. I reach for her, combing my hand through her soft, dark tresses.

"Mary," I begin, but my wife silences me by pressing a finger against my lips. The silence is agonizing. In spite of our lovemaking, the distance between us is growing. The sex is only a distraction from the real problem. _Mary hates you for Aimeri's death,_ my subconscious hisses at me. _Even if she does forgive you eventually, things will never be the same again between you._

"Shhh, Francis," she says quietly. "Don't say anything. I just want a few more moments for us to think about each other. I want it all to go away."

"It won't go away," I tell her. "We need to talk about…us." My wife pulls away from me and sits upright, unable to meet my eyes. I reach for her, gently stroking her back. She doesn't recoil from my touch.

"What is there to talk about?" Mary says icily. "My son is dead because of your mistakes. Aimeri is dead because of you!"

"This is no easier on me than it is on you," I remind her. She whips her head around and glares at me.

"Do you want the truth?" she demands, rising from the bed. Her voice gradually rises until she is practically shouting at me as she redresses herself. "The truth is, Francis, I give up on us, on our marriage! You singlehandedly destroyed everything when you let this violence enter our home and kill our baby boy!"

I climb out of bed and don my clothes as well, before approaching my wife. I try to rein in my temper, but my anger towards myself and my grief for our son is all of a sudden too much to bear. "So, what?" I retort. "You're just going to give up? You're just going to give up on our family?"

" _I'm not giving up on our family_!" Mary shouts. " _I'm giving up on you!_ You don't get it, do you? You can protect France, but you can't even protect your own family!"

"Mary, you are my wife and I love you!" I exclaim. "Do you hear me? _I love you_!"

"I don't like it!" she screams. "I don't like the fact that I'm your wife! Marrying you was the worst mistake I've ever made in my life!"

"It's not that simple and you know it!" I roar. "You're not thinking clearly!"

"This marriage? Francis, there's nothing left for you to salvage. Nothing! I'm just a hole you like to stick your cock in whenever you feel the urge!"

"Well, you seem to like it when I fuck you!" I bite out. Mary's palm lashes out and strikes me across the face.

"You fucking son of a _bitch_!" she screeches. "How dare you!"

"If you regret marrying me so much, why don't you just fucking leave?" I demand. "Why don't you just leave and save yourself all of this pain and grief?"

"Maybe I will!" my wife snaps. "Get the hell out!" Taking what's left of my dignity, I take my leave of my wife and go. Closing the door behind me, I can hear Mary sobbing on the other side. A lump forms in my throat and my vision suddenly blurs. I make for the graveyard, where my parents, my brother, my sister, and now my baby boy lie. I kneel in front of their graves as my tears slip unchecked down my cheeks. I trace Aimeri's tombstone with my fingers, the dates of his birth and his death just under my fingertips.

"I'm so sorry," I choke out. "I failed you, Aimeri. I failed to protect you. Your mother keeps telling me that it's my fault you died, and maybe she's right. I don't know anymore! I don't know how…I don't know how I can move on and I-I don't want to." Tears drip down my chin and onto the soil beneath which my son is buried. I bow my head as broken sobs wrack me. I press a hand to my mouth in an effort to suppress my sobs, but they only come harder. My agony overwhelms me and I'm practically drowning in it. All my hurt and my grief threatens to explode out of me. I don't know how long I cry, but my sobs gradually slow to shudders. I wrap an arm around my chest, trying to get myself under control. I take several deep, shuddering breaths before rising to my feet. I turn my back to the graves of my family and return to the castle.

Upon returning to my chambers, I find Mary waiting for me. Her suitcase is placed upon our bed, and her eyes are somber. "Mary?" I ask. "What is this?"

"Francis, I meant it when I said that it was over between us," my wife says quietly. "And I've been thinking about what you said earlier…after we made love. I believe that it's best that we live separately. We will work together as king and queen, but you and I are done."

"What of the children?"

"I am not leaving Versailles, if that's what you're asking," she says. "I wouldn't do that to them." I nod silently. "We won't be seeing each other often, except when we have to do our duty as king and queen."

"Are you sure this is what you want? I won't stand in your way." I love my wife. I always have, and I always will…but I can't be selfish with her. I won't.

"Yes. I am sure," Mary whispers. She reaches for her wedding ring almost hesitantly. Her eyes brim with unshed tears as she looks at me. "This is what I want." She lifts her suitcase off the bed and makes for the door. I slowly approach her and close the distance between us. "Francis, what are you…?"

"Shhh," I murmur. I cradle her face between my hands and brush my lips against her forehead. Tears burn in my eyes and they fall down my cheeks, unbidden. Mary leans into my touch and when I look into her eyes, I see how much this pains her. "Goodbye, Mary."

"Goodbye, Francis." She leaves the room, taking her belongings with her…and her heart.


	6. Turn Loose the Heaven Within

**MARY**

It doesn't take long for me to accommodate myself in my new chambers, away from Francis. The servants help me unpack my belongings and help me get settled in, but it can't help but feel strange to me. Five years of marriage…gone. Already my husband feels like a stranger to me, and I can't even look at him anymore without my grief and anger threatening to choke me.

"Do you need anything else, Your Majesty?" one of the servants asks me.

"No thank you. I'm fine," I answer. I offer her a smile before dismissing her and the others. _This is for the best,_ I tell myself. My marriage is in shambles. There is nothing for me here in France, except for my children. I step outside the balcony, looking over the kingdom of France. The sky is a red-purple hue as the sun sets in the horizon. Francis and I would often look at the sunset after making love. His arms would be wrapped around me while he would whisper words of love in my ear. I am unable to get it out my head: the memories of us together and madly in love, his hands exploring my body as we move together as one between the twisted sheets.

I shake my head furiously. Of course it's natural for a wife to miss her husband, but what Francis and I share— _shared_ —together was different. I don't know how to really explain it in a way that could be understood. I pull out a small box from my bedside table and just as I'm about to place my ring inside of it, the sun's rays shine upon it and on the inside, I can make out some markings. Markings? I turn my wedding ring around in my fingers. The markings are an inscription in beautiful calligraphy, etched in the ring: _mon amour._ My love. Oh god. Tears burn in my eyes and I hastily put the ring inside the box, throw the box inside the drawer, and close it before my emotions have the chance to overwhelm me. I make for the door, but when I open it, my children are at the door. Their eyes are wide and curious, but with a tinge of sadness.

"Mommy, what's happening?" Anne asks. "Why are you and Papa so sad?" I kneel down so I'm level with her and her siblings. "Do you not love Papa anymore, Mommy? Why don't you live together anymore?"

"Ever since Aimi went away," I begin, "it's been hard on me and Papa."

"Are you getting a divorce?" James chokes, tears filling in his eyes. Next to him, Catherine and Anne look as though they are about to burst into tears at just the word _divorce._

"No, no, no. No, darling, Mama and Papa aren't divorcing," I assure my son. Even as I say the words, I can't help but feel an emptiness on my left hand where my wedding ring is supposed to be. Could I truly bring myself to file a divorce? Could I do that to the children? Could I honestly do that to Francis? "Do you remember the story of _Swan Lake_?" My daughters' eyes lighten up with excitement and they nod enthusiastically. "Aimi's…departure is an evil spell cast upon us by a group of very bad people," I explain slowly. "It won't turn me into a swan, of course, but it's still keeping us apart."

"Won't true love's kiss break the spell?" Catherine squeals. _Oh, how I wish it were that simple…but I'm not sure if Francis and I are meant to get our happily-ever-after. Not after all that's happened._

"Maybe," I manage. I ruffle her hair, and that of her brother and sister as well. "I love your father…and I think I always will." But Francis and I aren't Derek and Odette. What we're going through is not because of an evil spell that can only be broken by true love's kiss. Our lives are not a fairytale. What we're going through is real and one kiss won't make all of our problems go away. "Run along now, darling, and have fun." I kiss her hair and hug the rest of my children goodbye. I watch as they run off together, playing and giggling together, before closing the door to my rooms behind me. I sit down by the window, letting my thoughts drift. I must have dozed off eventually, for when I awake, Francis is in the room, putting logs and kindling into the fireplace.

"Francis, what are you doing here?" I ask groggily.

"I wanted to check in on you and see how you were settling in," my husband answers. "Are you cold? Is there anything you need?"

"I'm fine, thank you," I say, not unkindly. "How long are we going to keep playing this game?"

"I don't understand." Francis is unable to meet my eyes while he lights the fire. I bite back a sigh before I continue.

"I told you that we would lead separate lives, and yet you come here with something to keep me comfortable," I point out. "You don't say anything, but I can feel you pressing me to talk…and it's only been a couple of hours since I moved into these chambers."

"You're wrong. I don't expect you to do anything you don't want to do," Francis tells me. "If I could undo the decisions I made all those years ago knowing the consequences, I would do so in a heartbeat – but I can't."

"No, you can't," I agree.

"Mary—"

"Please, get out." I say the words shortly, rising from my seat at the window. "Francis, you're not making this any easier. Get out and just leave me alone. If there's anything I need, I'll send for you. Please…go. Just go." My husband reluctantly obliges. He looks over his shoulder at me one last time before he closes the door behind him.

* * *

 **FRANCIS**

The days pass quietly. I distract myself from my thoughts and from Mary by throwing myself into the politics of court and spending time with my children. Mary is with them sometimes, and yet, the distance between us only grows with every passing day. I feel as though I'm a stranger to my own wife; the only thing keeping us bound to one another is our love for our children.

"Your Majesty, did you hear me?" one of the noblemen asks me. My small council, the noblemen, my wife, and I sit at the table in the councilor's chambers. Sitting across from me is Mary. My wife has refused to look me in the eye the entire time the council has been in session.

"I'm sorry. I've just been distracted," I say hastily. "What is it?" The noble looks at me wearily.

"Some of us are concerned that the alliance with England has cost France too much financially," he says. "England is allegedly the wealthiest kingdom and most powerful, with or without the French-Scottish alliance."

"Be that as it may, my lord," Mary interjects, "I have the feeling your reservations about the alliance are more than just the financials. What's really bothering you?" The nobleman fidgets, visibly uneasy with the prospect of giving voice to his true thoughts.

"I-I fear that Queen Elizabeth may turn her sights to conquering France," he stammers. "There have been rumors that she is no longer satisfied with the treaty."

"And just where have you heard these rumors?" I press him. No answer.

"Francis," my wife says warningly.

"Should I leave you two alone?" the nobleman asks. He looks awkwardly between the two of us. I can feel Mary's concern radiating off her; there's no doubt that the rumors will begin circulating around court after this.

"Please," Mary answers curtly. He and the other members of the council exchange puzzled looks before taking their leave of us. Once the room is empty, Mary rises out of her seat. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Francis?" she demands.

"I'm trying to help you," I reply. "I realize that you want us to live separately, but we can't be apart in all things." I rise from my seat and circle around the table so we're face to face with one another.

"I'm well aware of this, thank you," my wife snaps. "It doesn't mean I like it, though." She shakes her head. "I'm sorry," she says quietly. "I didn't…I shouldn't have said that."

"It's okay," I whisper. "Mary, we can't do this forever."

"I know that, Francis. I know that."

"Then why won't you let me help you?" I ask.

"Francis, when I look at you and I see your love for me in your eyes…it hurts," Mary murmurs. "It hurts, knowing how much you love me and how it was that love that brought us here."

"I'm so sorry." My voice is just above a whisper and for a moment, I'm not sure if Mary has even heard me until she draws closer to me. I take her hand in mine, stroking her hand with my thumb. My wife's eyes are closed and her breathing is uneven. I have become so attuned to her responses to me that I know she feels the pull between us despite her efforts to push me away. I reach for her, brushing a knuckle down her cheek.

" _Francis_ ," she breathes. She holds my wrist in place as she melts into my touch.

"I love you, Mary," I say quietly.

"I know," my wife says. I stroke her jaw with my thumb, running my fingers down her lips. She opens her eyes and stares at me intently. The tension between us simmers in the air…and then Mary grabs my face in her hands and kisses me.

 **MARY**

I can no longer resist the cosmic pull between us. Francis returns my kiss with a passion equal to my own, his hands entangling in my hair. His lips move to my neck as he unzips my black leather jacket. I roll my shoulders and my jacket glides down my arms, falling to the floor with a sigh.

" _Francis_ ," I moan. I break our kiss before taking him by the hand, leading him back to my chambers. I kick the door closed behind us before reaching for the hems of my tank-top and pulling it over my head. I toss it to the floor and Francis's mouth is on mine once again. I reach underneath his shirt, stroking his sculpted chest with my fingers before helping him discard the unwanted material. I immediately drop to my knees, peppering his chest with kisses. I've just barely begun to fumble with his belt buckle when my husband takes my hands in his and pulls me to my feet.

"Mary, my love," Francis says gently. "You are a queen. You are _my_ queen. You don't belong on your knees." He takes my face in his hands; the air between us is electricity and charged with sex. "It is I whom should be on my knees before you. Worshipping you with my mouth. Loving you." He gently spins me around so my back presses against him. His arousal presses against my ass and I bite my lip. Slowly, my husband unclasps my bra all while his lips brush against my back. I remove my bra and toss it to the floor, baring my breasts.

"You are my beloved," he murmurs into my skin. "My soul is yours." I close my eyes as I lose myself in the sensations of his mouth and hands on my body. I am dimly aware of anything else as Francis rises so we are level with one another, his lips and hands never leaving my body. "I love you, Mary." Words elude me, so I capture his lips in a kiss. I take several steps backward, guiding us to the bed. Francis gently sets me down so I'm lying with my back pressed to the mattress and he kisses me again. Our passion ignites into an untamed wildfire and we are soon skin-to-skin, as naked as we were the days we were born. My husband breaks our kiss and gazes into my eyes, stroking my face with his palm. I hold his face between my fingertips as he runs his thumb down my lips and to my chin. He bows his head to kiss me; it isn't long before I am overcome by the sensations brought about by his hands and mouth.

Francis kisses my neck, just below my ear, and I arch in pleasure. My fingers entangle in his lush, golden curls as I urge him lower. My husband kisses every patch of skin he passes; he doesn't dare leave one part of me that is not worshipped. A wordless sigh slips past my lips as he works his way down my body.

" _Francis_ ," I whisper. "Please, I need…" My husband rubs his nose in my chest, his mouth gliding effortlessly over my bare skin. "I need you," I murmur. " _Please._ " My pleas are answered as Francis kisses the insides of my thighs before prying my legs apart. He buries his head between my legs and laps insistently at my clit, driving me insane with desire. I throw an arm over my head as a powerful orgasm washes over me in waves and I scream in ecstasy. My husband becomes one with me, our bodies joined together in passion, and begins to build a steady rhythm in his thrusts. Our legs entangle together beneath the twisted sheets and I eagerly meet his thrusts with my own. I kiss my husband feverishly and our tongues engage in an erotic tango for dominance. Our lovemaking is urgent and desperate and passionate with an unspoken need for one another. Every moment spent apart is sheer agony for us both and yet, the loss of our son is too much to bear.

Francis whispers words of love in French into my skin and my body ignites at his every touch, his every kiss, and his every caress. We make love until our world explodes in passion and we fall asleep in each other's arms.

* * *

 **FRANCIS**

I watch my wife as she sleeps in my arms. How did things get so fucked up between us? I can vividly remember when we were nothing but a boy and a girl in love – and things were so much easier. I brush my lips against Mary's neck before gently shifting her out of my arms. I am no fool; she will not want to see me still in her bed when she wakes. She still blames me for our son's death and in spite of our lovemaking, she has not yet forgiven me for my part – and truth be told, I haven't forgiven myself either. I get dressed and quietly leave my wife in peace, closing the door behind me.

* * *

 **MARY**

When I awaken, I am dismayed to find that Francis has left me. I reach a hand out to the other side of the bed, only to feel the impression in the mattress where my husband should be. My body aches and tingles from our lovemaking. All I can think of is how much I miss my husband…and not just because of the sex. When we were making love, Francis's eyes were filled with such love and awe that my heart broke.

 _I still love you, Francis._


	7. Our Decades in the Sun

**MARY**

The rumors begin to swirl around court over the next few weeks. I can hear the servants and the nobles talking about my marriage; my husband was seen leaving my chambers after he made love to me only hours after the disastrous privy council meeting. For a moment, I wonder briefly if he's heard the rumors as well. All of court already knows of our estrangement; it's a miracle that the presses haven't raided Versailles just to interview us. I still remember how the media hounded us after Bash's death and the deaths of Catherine and Henri afterwards.

I make my way through the halls in search of Francis. As I pass by various nobles and other members of the court, it is impossible to ignore their curious, but also sympathetic stares. They whisper to one another as I pass. Although I make sure it doesn't show on my face, I am confused by their reactions. What are they whispering about behind my back? There is not a doubt in my mind that it's about my marriage, but what is so bad that my own people are giving me pitiful stares?

My question is answered when I step into the throne room. The hall is filled with members of the court, or to be more precise, various noblemen and their daughters. I push my way through the crowd, ignoring their piteous eyes on me. When I finally reach my husband, he is engaged in conversation with a nobleman and a woman who I presume is his daughter.

"…My beautiful Eva just turned eighteen this month," her father says proudly. "I could go on and on about her, but my daughter can speak for herself." Eva giggles flirtatiously before she speaks. She flips her dark brown hair over her shoulders, exposing her neck to my husband.

"I love poetry and reading," she begins. "I used to be engaged to someone, but it didn't end up working out, so my father decided that maybe it was best that we live in court. My mother was heavily involved in the politics of court before she passed away."

"I'm sorry for your loss," says Francis gently. "I'm sure your mother was a great woman."

"I was sorry to hear about the death of your son," Eva adds quickly. "How tragic…and on top of that, things seem to be rough between you and Queen Mary. Your Majesty, I give you my word that I would never betray you as she did." She places her hand upon his chest and gazes intently into his eyes. Just seeing her with her hands on my husband makes me want to retch. A surge of jealousy fires through my veins. Francis is _my_ husband, not hers. Weeks ago, he was making love to me and whispering words of love in my ear. Against my will, an image of Francis in bed with Eva as he makes love to her comes unbidden in my mind.

I clear my throat and they spring apart. Eva turns around to see me and she bows before me. I plaster a fake and cheerful smile upon my face. "What a surprise!" I gasp. "I didn't realize how well acquainted you were with my husband."

"Well, Your Majesty," she says, "King Francis keeps great company. I hope I get to know him better."

I chuckle. "Of course, nobody knows the king as well as his wife." Eva must realize my underlying meaning behind my words, for there is a flicker of pain in her eyes. I cup Francis's face between my hands and kiss him passionately for all to see. I sense my husband's surprise and hesitation, but it isn't long before he kisses me back. When we finally break apart, we are both breathless. My husband tucks a strand of hair behind my ear as I caress his cheeks with my fingertips.

"What was that?" he asks. Wordlessly, I pull away and I walk out of the throne room. Francis follows me, shouting my name. I whirl around to face him, a sudden fury engulfing me.

"What the hell did you think you were doing with _her_?" I demand.

"What was that for?" demands Francis at the same time. "Why kiss me? I thought things were over between us!"

"Did it ever occur to you that I hated seeing you with her?" I scream.

"Why the hell do you suddenly care about who I'm with?" my husband retorts.

" _Because I love you!"_ The hall falls silent and my words hang in the air between us. Francis and I stare at each other for several long moments, for we both know that this was the first time I'd said that I loved him since the death of our son. I've been pushing him away and denying my true feelings for him for so long that even I'm surprised to hear the words tumble out of my mouth. My husband rushes forward, cupping my face in his hands, and kisses me passionately. I eagerly return his kiss, the fire between us igniting into an untamed wildfire. The kiss lasts for several long moments before we pull apart. Wordlessly, I take him by the hand and lead him to my chambers.

* * *

 **FRANCIS**

Our limbs entangled together beneath the sheets, we lie together peacefully. The only sounds filling the room are the crackling of the fireplace and our breathing. Mary raises herself up on one elbow and gazes at me intently. Her hand glides lightly across my chest and for several long moments, she doesn't say anything and nor do I.

"You stayed with me," she whispers. "You left me after the last time we made love."

"I didn't think you wanted to see me," I tell her honestly. "Mary, do you still blame me for our son's death?"

"Francis, the loss of our son still pains me beyond words," my wife says, "but…I can't do this anymore. Seeing you with Eva hurt me more than I can say." I take her hand in mine and kiss each of her fingers, stopping suddenly when I reach her vacant ring finger.

"You're not wearing your wedding ring." It isn't a question. The ring I gave her on our wedding day, conjoined with the ruby diamond engagement ring I gave her when I proposed to her, is absent from her finger. Mary says nothing, and pulls her hand away.

"After I moved into these chambers, I took it off," she says slowly. She shakes her head. "Francis, what do you want? Where do you want this—us—to go? It's like we're married but unmarried…"

"Mary, you know that I love you," I tell her. "If you want to give our marriage another chance, I'll take that chance with you. I _want_ to take that chance with you." My wife's eyes shimmer with raw emotion. A single tear streaks down her cheek. I reach for her, tenderly wiping away her tear with my thumb.

"I love you too, Francis," Mary whispers. "I do. It's just…Aimi's death. It hurts too much. I know you were just trying to protect us from the Citadel, but it doesn't make it any less painful."

"He was my son too," I say quietly.

"I don't know if I can lose anyone else," my wife confesses. She looks down from me and I gently tilt her head up so she looks back at me.

"You're not going to lose me, love," I assure her. "I promise you." For several long moments, Mary says nothing. She finally gives me a soft, lingering kiss before she rests her head upon my shoulder. I wrap my arms around her and, for the first time in a long time, I feel that there might be hope for us yet.

We spend the rest of the day and all night in each other's arms, making love and slowly coming back to one another. My wife is as responsive to my touch and eager as ever, and I whisper to her how much I love her. Afterwards, we lie together, our limbs entangled beneath the sheets.

"I never hated you, Francis," says Mary softly. "Not truly. For so long, I thought I did."

"It's okay, my love," I tell her. "Let's not talk about the past, okay?" She nods and kisses me softly. I kiss her back, my hands moving into her dark, damp tresses. "I want us to move forward in our marriage."

"I want that too," my wife agrees. "I love you, Francis."

"Where do you want us to go from here?" I ask. "Do you want to move back into my chambers or do you still need some time to think?"

"I'm not ready for that yet," she tells me honestly. "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it," I say. "It's okay." As disappointed as I am, I understand. I want us to begin again, but I won't push her to do anything she isn't ready to do. "We'll do things on your time, my love. If it means being with you, I can wait forever."

"Forever is a very long time, you know," Mary says, and brushes her lips against mine.

"I love you forever," I whisper.

"I love you too."

* * *

 **MARY**

We make love again and when I finally awaken, I'm disappointed to find Francis's side of the bed vacant. Where he is supposed to be, there is a small note atop of his pillow. I recognize my husband's calligraphic script instantly:

 _You looked so beautiful and so at peace that I didn't want to wake you. I'll be back soon, my beloved. I've gone to visit our son._

 _I love you._

 _Aimi's grave,_ I realize with a jolt. _He's gone to our son's grave._ I hurriedly get dressed and make my way to the cemetery. My husband kneels at our son's grave, stroking his headstone with his fingertips. I sit at his side and he looks at me, his eyes pained.

"I don't think I can ever forgive myself for this, Mary," he confesses. "You said it yourself. I took things into my own hands and our son died because of it."

"Francis….no," I whisper. "I said more than I meant. I was grieving and angry." I reach for him and gently rub small circles into his back. "You need to forgive yourself. There is no way you could've known what Serena was going to do."

"She threatened you. She threatened our children," Francis reminds me, "and I still couldn't protect Aimeri." Tears brim in his eyes and spill down his cheeks. "It's my fault. It's my fault that our son is dead. I am so sorry, Mary. I—"

"No, no, no," I murmur, taking him in my arms. "It's not your fault, my love. It's not your fault. I forgive you. I forgive you." I kiss his hair as he begins to sob brokenly in my arms. "Shhh, shhh. It's okay, Francis. I forgive you. I forgive you."

 _I forgive you._

* * *

 **FRANCIS**

My sobs gradually slow to shudders. I pull away from Mary and wipe my tears with the back of my hand. My wife's face, too, is streaked with tears. She takes my hand in hers, gently stroking the outside of my hand with her thumb.

"I _love_ you, Francis," she says softly.

"I love you too," I say. We rise to our feet and make our way back to Versailles, our fingers interlaced together. For several long moments, we don't say anything. It is not an uncomfortable silence, but rather a silence of acknowledgement. The sun begins to rise in the distance, painting the sky in a hue of scarlet and violet in the early dawn. I recognize our surroundings; this is the very same meadow where I asked Mary to marry me all those years ago. My wife's hand drifts to the plane of her stomach, but falls as quickly as it rose. _Is she…pregnant?_ The thought springs to my mind and instantaneously fills me with joy and heartbreak. Joy, because I love her. Heartbreak, because our son is gone from this world forever. I love this woman with all my heart. I love Mary more than anything and I've spent so long convinced that I'd lost her forever. I would do anything for her and the things I've done for love, for her, it scares me sometimes when I think about it. Would I take any of it back? No, not for her. I love her too much.

"Penny for your thoughts?" my wife says, breaking my reverie. "What's on your mind?"

"I was just thinking about…us," I answer honestly, "and how much I love you." I stop and turn to her. "I know that things between us have been difficult over these past few weeks, and I understand if you don't want to do this."

"Do what?" she asks. "I don't understand."

"I love you, Mary Stuart," I continue. "We both know that. I've loved you from the moment I first laid eyes upon you when you returned to court so long ago, and I fall in love you all over again with each day that we spend together. We've been through a lot together, and I don't want to go another day without you by my side." I sink down onto one knee and pull out her wedding ring. Mary gasps and tears spill down her cheeks.

"Francis..."

"Will you marry me again?"

"Yes!" she exclaims. "Oh my god, yes!" I slide her wedding band back upon her ring finger and rise, taking her in my arms as we kiss and laugh together and revel in our joy.


	8. Romanticide

**MARY**

 _We're renewing our wedding vows. We're getting married again._ This is all I can think as Francis takes me in his arms and kisses me passionately. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him close, molding our bodies together. He embraces me and buries his face in my shoulder.

"I love you," he whispers.

"I love you too," I reply. The ruby diamond on my engagement ring catches in the sunlight, and I smile. I pull away before gently kissing my husband. "I will love you for the rest of my life…and I will never let you go again." I touch his face, stroking his face with my thumbs. Hand in hand, we return to Versailles. The people stare at us, no doubt surprised at the rekindling of our marriage. Francis leads me to his chambers and upon closing the door, he presses my back against the solid wood and kisses me. I kiss him back, letting the flames of passion ignite between us. Our hands move into each other's hair and our bodies come together naturally. Time becomes nonexistent as we tear at each other's clothes, stripping each other in a mad passion before we fall into bed, losing ourselves in each other. Francis makes passionate love to me, murmuring love words in my ear and against my skin. I receive his kisses eagerly and give as I take.

 _I love him. I've always loved him._ A sigh of pleasure slips past my lips as my husband trails gentle kisses down my neck. My toes curl into the mattress as I climax, and my hands move into his soft, golden curls. How I've missed him! How I've missed his touch and feeling his arms around me, flesh against flesh. We move together as one flesh, one heart, and one soul, making up for the time we've lost together. We lay together afterwards. I lay on my stomach, gazing fondly at my husband as he lays next to me, caressing my bare back.

"Mary," says Francis quietly.

"What is it?" I ask. "What's on your mind?"

"Why did you forgive me for what happened?" he whispers. "I love you, Mary, but how can you forgive me when I can't even forgive myself?'

"Darling, I forgive you because I love you," I tell him honestly, "and Aimi's death was not your fault, and I mean it. The Citadel took our son away from us. I love you, Francis. Hold onto that." I reach for him and stroke his cheek. Francis kisses my palm and I close my eyes briefly as his kiss sends electricity crackling through my body. "I want us to have a chance to love each other."

"I want that too," he tells me. "I want us to be a family again: you, me, Anne, James, and Catherine. I want us to be together again." I take our joined hands and kiss my husband's knuckles before holding his hand close to me, as though I can draw strength from him.

"And we will," I say. "We will, all of us…and our little one." I smile. Francis doesn't say anything for a moment, but soon enough, his eyes flicker with recognition.

"Our little one?" he echoes. "Mary, are you…?"

"I am!" I answer. "I've known for a couple of weeks now, but because things have been so difficult between us, I wasn't sure how to tell you. I'm with child. I'm pregnant again!" The words come tumbling out of my mouth as my ecstasy becomes too much to contain. Francis beams and we burst into ecstatic laughter. My husband kisses me passionately and I squeal as he pins me to the mattress. I kiss him back eagerly, moving my hands into his hair as he presses his full weight atop of me. I wrap my legs around his waist, drawing us closer together.

"I love you," Francis murmurs between kisses. I cup his face between my hands and kiss him in response. My husband pulls himself out to the tip before plunging back inside me. I gasp in pleasure, and he does this over and over again, forming a slow and sensual rhythm between our bodies. I meet his strong, languid thrusts with my own movements.

"Francis!" I cry. I wrap my arms around him as he buries his face in the curve of my neck, kissing me softly. I arch against him, digging the soles of my bare feet into his back. "Oh my god, Francis!" I catch his lips in another kiss and I push myself upright, wrapping my legs around his waist as leverage. I kiss him again and again. He breaks our kiss and pulls away; I whimper in disappointment. Francis pulls our bodies closer together and his lips fasten to a nipple. I arch and strain against him, cradling his head to my chest as I rock my hips against him. I lower my lips to his, shifting one hand into his hair and wrapping the other around his neck.

"My god, Mary," Francis groans. I raise myself upon my haunches and slowly sink back onto his cock, moaning at the sensations. "Mary…my beauty," he whispers, and hungrily presses his mouth to mine. Passion ignites passion and our tongues push against each other in a desperate longing. I hide my face in his shoulder as he begins to kiss my neck. I gasp in time to his punctuated thrusts, wrapping my arms around him.

"Francis! Francis! Francis!" I gasp. I pull away from him before sweeping my lips across his, holding his face. My husband wraps his arms around my waist, holding me close. I lift up again and grind back down. I do this again and again, pulling along and pushing down into him. Pull and push. Push and ball. Back and forth. Again and again and again. My tongue slips past his lips and Francis swallows my moan of pleasure as he buries himself within me, a knife in its sheath.

"Mary, you're shaking," Francis breathes into my ear.

"I'm fine, my love," I assure him. "Trust me." I kiss him again, moaning my pleasure into his mouth. Francis reaches beneath me and lifts me up from my knees. I extend my legs and wrap them around his back, resettling myself into his lap. I take his face between my palms and kiss him feverishly, taking his lower lip into my mouth and biting down gently. Keeping our lips fused together, Francis pushes me down onto my back. He caresses my face before running his fingers down my lips. I lean forward and catch his lips in a kiss. His fingers ghost up my inner thigh and I shiver at his touch. I surge forward and maneuver him so he lies on his back as I straddle his waist. I grab his face and cover his mouth in mine before trailing my lips down his chest, going lower and lower. I graze his skin with my teeth, playfully nipping at him and laughing as he groans in both pain and pleasure.

I finally reach his cock and, grinning devilishly at him, I wrap my hand around him before taking him between my lips. I bob my head up and down, moving my hand up and down around his cock. My husband groans my name. I pull myself away from his cock before taking my breasts and wrapping them around him, continuing my movements.

"Jesus Christ, Mary," Francis rasps. I gasp as his seed spurts out from his cock and adorns my neck and shoulders. My husband lets out a scream, arching his back as he grabs at the pillows, and I lower my head to lick off some of his seed from his member. I crawl back atop of him and take his hands, pulling him into a sitting position.

"I love you, Francis," I murmur.

"I love you too, my beauty." Francis presses his lips in my neck, licking away his seed. I shudder in pleasure as he licks, kisses, and sucks my pulse points. I squeal as the world suddenly changes on its axis and I'm lying on my back once again. Francis touches my face gently, his eyes filled with love and awe. I bring my hands to hold his face and lower his lips to mine. My husband brings his lips to my neck and we lose ourselves in each other.

 **FRANCIS**

Mary sleeps in my arms as we lay entwined together. I gently stroke her bare back as I listen to her breathing. There are no other sounds in the room, save for our breathing and the crackling of the fireplace. My wife's wedding ring glints in the morning sunrise. It's strange how the small things linger in the memory over time, present in the mind but not forgotten. My wife rests her head on my shoulder, her hands upon my heart. I take her hand and kiss her wedding ring.

 _I love you, Mary._ I don't realize I've said the words aloud when my wife stirs. She opens her eyes and gazes at me, tracing a pattern into my chest with her fingers. "Good morning, sleeping beauty," I murmur, and kiss her softly. She brings a hand to my face and smiles.

"Good morning, husband," she murmurs, and kisses me deeply. I roll so she's on her back with me atop of her, settled between her legs. I give my wife a knowing smile and trail gentle kisses down her neck. She arches her back, shifting her hands into my hair. Her small frame fits perfectly against my body. I make my way down her body, going lower and lower, all while never taking my eyes off her. Mary's eyes are closed, her mouth falling open in a small moan of pleasure. I grab her leg and kiss her inner thigh before burying my head between her legs. I circle her clit with my lips and suck rhythmically, kneading her hypersensitive bundle of nerves with my tongue.

"Francis! Fuck!" Mary bucks her hips against my mouth and her legs close as her body spasms with orgasm. I insistently push her legs apart and she laughs and squeals. "Fuck!" I lap my tongue against her pussy before delving my tongue inside her. Her fingers entangle themselves in the damp roots of my hair. I finally raise my head up from between her legs and kiss a trail back up her body until I reach her lips. Mary rolls atop of me, cupping my face in her hands as she kisses me madly. I run a hand through her dark, damp tresses while I splay my other hand against her bare back, kneading my fingertips into her flesh. My wife rides me fiercely, and it isn't long before we both scream our release as we climax as one.

"Mary!" I take her in my arms and swiftly roll her beneath me, thrusting into her vigorously. My wife arches her back and screams my name. Her fingernails rake down my back and I cry out in both pleasure and pain as I come inside her. I swallow her cries in a passionate kiss. My wife moves her hands into my hair and pulls me closer to her, if possible. Her breasts are crushed against my chest, leaving no space between us, and her legs wrap around my waist.

"You belong to me," I rasp between kisses.

"You," Mary murmurs. "Only you." She breaks our feverish kisses and meets my eyes, breathless. I cradle her face in my palm and brush my thumb across the corner of her lip. Gently, she touches my face and lowers my lips to hers in a possessive kiss. She wraps her arms around me and grinds against me. "I love you," she says between heated kisses. My wife pushes herself forward and I wrap my arms around her waist to pull her close. Her legs come around my waist as I shift her onto my lap. I bury myself in her completely, sheathing myself inside her like a dagger to the hilt.

I wrap my fist around her hair and gently tug, baring her throat to me. I kiss and suck gently at her pulse points, relishing in the way she mewls against me. I disentangle my hand from her hair to circle my arms around her waist. My wife kisses me deeply; her hands cup my face gently before she loops her arms around my neck. There is no telling where I end and she begins; even after five years of marriage, it still amazes me how our bodies fit together like puzzle pieces made for each other. _Mary was made for me and I for her. Our souls are entwined forever._ Mary breaks our kiss breathlessly, running a knuckle gently down my cheek. I pound furiously into her hot core and she gasps in time to my punctuated movements. I cover her mouth in mine and push her onto her back, pressing my lips in her neck.

I love her—and I never stop loving her.

* * *

 **MARY**

The following morning, we announce our upcoming vow renewal. The media storms the castle and we are caught in a storm of camera flashes. Hand-in-hand, my husband and I make our way to the gardens of Versailles. We sit down on the nearest bench and our interviewer follows suit. The cameras are trained on us, locking themselves in on what is most likely one of the biggest stories of the year.

"None of us were expecting to hear the news of yet another royal wedding heading our way," the representative begins, "let alone the fact that it would be the two of you again."

"I wasn't expecting it either," I admit. I hold out my hand and admire my wedding ring. My engagement ring catches the sunlight and the ruby glints beautifully. "But I'm happy. I couldn't imagine living my life without him." I take my husband's hand in mine and meet his eyes. "We've been through some tough times, but I love him nonetheless."

"We wanted to share our happiness with the world," he says.

"That is so sweet and romantic! Tell us, though, Queen Mary: before your reconciliation, there was always the possibility of King Francis getting a mistress. How did that make you feel and how do you feel now that you are set to renew our wedding vows?" I still. My mind freezes. Did she seriously just ask me that question? Francis and I exchange a glance. I open my mouth to form a reply, but my husband beats me to it.

"It was actually during that time we reconciled, believe it or not," he interjects quickly. He squeezes my hand. _Trust me on this._ "Things were so difficult between us after the death of our son. We grew apart, but we soon realized we loved each other too much to continue being apart from one another."

"You really love each other, don't you?"

"Yes, we do," I say quietly. Francis lifts my hand to his lips and kisses my wedding ring. "I don't think I've ever been happier." His eyes meet mine as he kisses my knuckles. "I love you, Francis." And in that moment, the rest of the world falls away and it is just the two of us. My husband rises from the bench and I follow suit. He takes me inside the palace and into our chambers, where he makes love to me once more.

 **FRANCIS**

"A masquerade ball for our engagement party," my wife muses as she dons her diamond earrings. "What a wonderful surprise you've kept from me." She turns away from the mirror to face me. It takes my breath away how beautiful she is. Her dark tresses are pinned up loosely and a few curls hang to frame her face; her strapless gown is a magnificent ruby that is accentuated with black and the skirt is soft and filled with ruffles that remind me of petals on a rose. She is so beautiful it hurts.

"The renewal of our vows is a huge occasion, my beauty," I tell her, "and I wanted the celebration to be just as huge. I invited everyone within a few miles of Versailles." My wife chuckles and draws closer to me. Her rings on her left hand catch the light of the sunset and shine brightly.

"The wedding is going to be even bigger, isn't it?" she says, beaming up at me. She wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me softly. "You're really pulling out all the stops for me, love."

"I want to give you everything," I say sincerely. My wife moves a hand to my face and strokes my cheek with her thumb. I catch her hand and kiss her knuckles, and then my rings on her left hand. "You are everything to me." Mary kisses me softly and slowly. Her hands move into my hair and she pulls gently yet insistently at my roots. I chuckle as I take her lower lip between my teeth and pull.

"Ew, gross!" James' voice floats into the room and small feet pad on the marble floors. We pull away from one another to see the children bursting inside, happy and joyful. "Mama and Papa are kissing!" James, Catherine, and Anne practically run towards us and I smile. "What's taking you so long?" he complains.

"We were just about to join the party, James," I tell my son. "Don't you worry. I trust you and your sisters have been on your best behavior?" They all not eagerly. Anne stands up on her toes and twirls gracefully.

"I love dancing, Mommy!" she exclaims. "Are you and Daddy going to have another wedding?"

"It seems that talk gets around quickly, my love," my husband remarks, offering me a smile. "And yes, Anne, your mother and I are having another wedding. All of France is invited and the whole world will be watching." He ruffles our daughter's hair. Catherine and James chase each other around the room; I call to them quickly, "Be careful and please don't touch anything!"

"Aren't we going to make a formal announcement during the ball?" I ask my husband.

"We are," Francis says. "Masks on."

 **MARY**

Upon arrival, my husband and I are greeted by applause. We make our way to the center of the room and Francis spins me outward. I let go of his hand before returning to his side.

"My wife and I have some news we would like to share," he announces. "I'm sure you may already know or you may have heard rumors of another royal wedding." At this, the crowd bursts into hushed whispers of excitement. "Which brings me to the reason why we are all gathered here tonight. Mary and I have decided to renew our wedding vows." I take his outstretched hand and he kisses my knuckles. I smile as he draws me into him; our lips collide passionately and I wrap my arms around him. Our kisses grow hungrier and hungrier. It isn't until I force myself to break away from him, breathless, that I realize the acute throbbing between my legs. Our bodies are pressed together and I can feel my husband's arousal.

"I have to have you, Mary," murmurs Francis. "God, you are so fucking beautiful." He runs a knuckle down my cheek. His touch alone makes me shiver. Wordlessly, I take him by the hand and lead him to our chambers. As soon as the door closes behind us, Francis's mouth is on mine in an instant. He breaks away, but only for an instant, and removes both his mask and mine.

"Francis," I breathe. I kick off my heels and my husband moves a hand into my hair, tugging at the hairpins keeping my hair up. My tresses fall loose down my shoulders and I shake my hair out, relishing the feeling of it kissing my shoulders and back. I'm dimly aware of my husband's fingers grasping handfuls of my dress as he pulls me closer to him. His tongue penetrates my lips and our tongues clash together in a battle for dominance. I grab his tie at the same time before making quick work of his jacket. Francis kicks off his dress shoes and pulls off his socks before kissing me again. My fingers fumble with his tie in my eagerness.

"Someone's impatient," he taunts me. He unties it for me and I grab it, tossing it halfway across the room. I pounce on him, throwing my arms around him and slanting my mouth against his.

"I need you, Francis," I rasp. I take his lower lip between my teeth and tug aggressively, reaching for his belt. I pull his belt through the loops and whip it across the room before ripping his dress shirt open. Buttons fly everywhere and scatter all over the floor. I can't help myself as I laugh. Francis smiles, swallowing my laughter as he kisses me again. He pushes his dress shirt off his shoulders, gifting me with his broad and sculpted chest. I run my hands down his torso before moving my fingers into his golden locks, tugging against his scalp in my passion.

"I know, love," my husband says. "I've missed you so much, Mary. Christ!" At a loss for words, he seals his mouth over mine. I work the buttons on his black slacks before eagerly pushing them down. Francis takes my hands and raises me back up so we're level with each other before he steps out of them, kicking them aside. My eyes lower to his cock standing erect and all I can think is, _Thank god he isn't wearing any boxers._ I don't have time to stare for much longer, for my husband takes me in his arms and turns me around so my ass is pressed against his erection.

"Francis…please." My voice is barely above a whisper. "Please." I reach a hand behind me and him, cupping the back of his neck. I crane my neck around so our eyes meet. "I want…"

"I know what you want, my love," says Francis. "I know." He unzips my dress and peels it off my body. I am bare underneath, save for the black, lacy panties I'm still wearing. His lips brush against my bare back and I close my eyes, losing myself in my husband's touch. My dress falls to the floor with a whisper, pooling at my feet. Francis's lips move upwards, kissing my shoulders and the back of my neck. I slowly turn around to face him and I grab his face between my hands, kissing him passionately. My breasts are crushed against his chest, leaving no space between us. Francis lifts me up into his arms and I wrap my legs around his waist as he carries me to the bed. He gently spreads me across the silken sheets, but he doesn't kiss me again. Instead, he hovers above me, hooking his fingers through my panties.

"These are going to have to come off," my husband remarks casually as his fingers play with the fabric.

"Take them off then." And he does. Slowly, he takes the fabric between his teeth and drags them down my legs. His azure eyes remain trained on mine as he does this.

"Fuck me," I breathe. "Please, Francis." I watch as he pulls my panties down my legs until I am completely bared to him. My husband lifts the wet piece of lace to his nose and inhales the smell of my own desire. _Holy hell._ He tosses them aside and covers my mouth in his, thrusting inside me. His movements are slow and languid, but powerful, but I want more. I need more. I gasp when he hits my sweet spot inside me and bury my face in his shoulder. I wrap my legs around his back and dig my heels into his ass, moaning as we move together.

"Mary!" rasps my husband.

"Faster, Francis," I plead. I bite down on his lower lip and tug urgently before kissing him again. Our lips devour each other in our heated passion with each kiss more desperate than the last. "Harder." I whimper when Francis breaks our kiss. He buries his face in my neck, kissing my neck and my shoulders. Softly at first, but his kisses grow hungrier and hungrier. I arch my back as a wordless sigh slips past my lips. I gasp when he takes my flesh between his teeth and tugs. _That's going to leave a mark,_ I think…but I don't mind being marked by my husband. He does this again and again. Kissing and sucking and biting my flesh, he slithers down my body. He kisses my belly where our unborn child thrives and rubs his nose tauntingly against my flesh, making his way lower and lower. I arch my back as my orgasm rolls over me in waves, each one more powerful than the last. My husband's mouth finds my clit and he tongues me until I climax over and over again. I entangle my fingers in his hair and tug at his roots.

"That's it," he rasps. "Come for me, baby." I come undone on his tongue once again. Francis makes his way back up to me and kisses me, silencing my cries.

"Don't stop," I murmur. "Please don't stop." Francis obliges and I hold his face between my palms, keeping our lips fused together as I push myself forward. My husband helps me into my seated position in his lap, straddling his thighs, and I sink down on my haunches, slowly letting him fill me. I throw my head back, moaning. His lips latch themselves onto a nipple while he strokes my other breast with his thumb, stroking and fondling until it aches.

"Oh my god…oh, Francis!" I cry. I crush my mouth against his and his arms circle around my waist, drawing us closer together. I trace my tongue along his lips and tilt my head further to the side, seeking out his warmth. His tongue meets mine in a sensual and erotic tango. I loop my arms around his neck and deepen our kiss, moaning into his mouth. I roll my hips, pushing down on him as I fan the flames between us.

"So good, Mary," my husband pants. "You feel so good…you're so wet for me." He pushes his hands through my damp tresses. His eyes meet mine, filled with love and awe in equal proportions. "I want you in my arms every night, coming with my name on your lips. Me and only me." I kiss him in response, pushing my tongue into his mouth.

"It's always been you," I rasp. "It's you and me, Francis. Always." Keeping my arms around him and our lips joined together in a kiss, I recline so I'm lying on my back and pull my husband down with me. Francis presses his full weight atop of me and cradles the back of my head in one hand while he strokes my cheek with the other.

"I love you," he whispers.

"I love you too." After making love, we lay sprawled together in a messy tangle of sheets. I raise myself on my elbow so I lean above my husband. His fingers dance across the plane of my bare back.

"I think we're missing the party, my love," I joke. Francis chuckles.

"I could spend the rest of the night here in bed with you," my husband tells me. "Holding you in my arms, making love to you." He takes a strand of my hair and twists it around his finger. "Mary, I meant what I said earlier. I want to give you everything. After we lost our son, I feel as though I've failed you as your husband and as your king."

"Francis, _I love you._ " I touch his face with my palm and he covers my hand in his, turning his face to the side and pressing his lips to the inside of my hand. "I love you. There was no way you could have known what the Citadel was going to do after you gave Serena the money."

"They still pose a threat to us and to our family."

"We're going to be fine. I promise," I assure him. I kiss him gently. "You are Francis II, the King of France and I am Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots. We are king and queen. What more could they possibly do to us?" Francis remains silent for several moments before he kisses me softly. We make love again before finally getting dressed and returning to the ball.

My husband wraps an arm possessively around my waist as we make our way back to our guests. My body tingles with the memory of our lovemaking, and I can't help but smile. Francis brushes his lips against my temple before he claps his hands loudly, silencing the room.

"I would like to propose a toast to my beautiful wife," he announces as the cooks make the rounds, giving everyone a glass of red wine. "I love you, Mary. You are the best thing that's ever happened to me." He raises his glass and we all drink from our goblets. The wine explodes in my mouth in a burst of spice and fruits.

In that moment, everything is wrong. Something about the wine isn't right. My throat constricts and I can't breathe. My heart is pounding in my chest and all I can think is, _Not our baby. Not our baby, please no._ Stabs of pain wrack through my body and the blood is a hot rush as it spills down my thighs. My mouth opens in a wordless scream and my legs give out from under me. Francis runs over to me and I fall into his arms as tears stream down my face. My husband is the last thing I see before I am consumed in darkness.

 **FRANCIS**

The next few hours pass by as though in a dream. I remember seeing Mary collapse, her thighs slick with blood, her glass of wine slipping out of her hand and shattering into pieces on the marble floor. Everything afterwards is a blur. It's surreal, as though I am watching these events unfold through someone else's eyes. Not my own. I remember screaming for help and Nostradamus shoving his way through the crowd. I never once left my wife's side, for all I could think of was her safety and that of our unborn child. He takes Mary from me and carries her unconscious form to his hospital ward.

"The wine was poisoned, Your Majesty," he tells me. "This had to have been an assassination attempt." He searches through his various concoctions as he speaks. "It's only fortunate that I am familiar with the poison that was used. I have the antidote for it. Queen Mary will live."

"And our baby?" I am terrified for our child's life…but a part of me already knows the answer. Blood trickles down my wife's thighs and her skin is deathly pale. "Is our baby going to be okay?"

"Your child is lost. I'm sorry." He takes a vial and pours its contents into Mary's mouth. "If God is merciful, your queen will survive the night." Without another word, he leaves me alone with my wife. I sit by her side and take her hand in mine. Her hand is cold as ice. _Oh god, please. Don't take her away from me. Please. I've lost so much…too much. I can't lose her._ I kiss her rings, tears burning in my eyes and spilling down my cheeks. I hang my head and I weep.


End file.
